


The Return

by ubicaritas (Janet)



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janet/pseuds/ubicaritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tragic week takes a devastating toll on one of the Five-O detectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The Return was the first fanfic I ever published. Although this story is posted elsewhere, I decided it was time to bring it to the Archive as well. - ubicaritas

**Present Day**

 

_Crunch. Swish. Crunch. Swish._

 

The motion of the shovel was a constant, steady rhythm.  _ Crunch. _ The blade of the shovel sliced into the snow.  _ Swish. _ The snow flew from the shovel to land on the growing pile at the side of the driveway. There was no pause or hesitation in the movement, just the relentless  _ crunch swish _ of the progress of the shovel. Simple; mindless. Numbing. Just the way Danny Williams wanted it.

 

* * *

 

**Two Weeks Earlier**

 

“He's gone, Steve.” Chin Ho Kelly's quiet words greeted Steve McGarrett as he burst into the Five-O office complex. “He cleared off his desk, gave me his files. And he left an envelope on your desk; asked me to make sure you got it.”

 

Steve barely acknowledged Chin as he headed straight to his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Once inside, however, his pace slowed, and his shoulders slumped visibly as he looked at the white envelope in the middle of his desk. Not only did that paper contain his second-in-command's resignation from Five-O, it also represented his own failure to control the circumstances which had led to this conclusion. Danny Williams was gone, from his team, from the islands, and the odds were not good that he would return.

 

In another part of the city, Dan Williams walked across the tarmac towards the waiting airplane. Dressed casually in a muted aloha shirt and slacks, and carrying only one small bag, the sandy-haired young man did not look back as he climbed the steps and entered the cabin. He found his seat, stowed his bag, and once he was seated and buckled in, closed his eyes to the world around him and kept them shut. Not even when the plane took off into the sunny sky, providing a spectacular view of Honolulu, did he open them to take one last look at the city that had been his home for most of his life.


	2. Monday - Wednesday

**Three Weeks Earlier**

 

_**Monday** _

The week began just as any other: a sunny Monday morning, tourists on the beach and in the markets, and routine police business happening everywhere. Traffic tickets were issued, petty crime was investigated, and snitches were pressed for information on anything from thefts to the drug trade. The routine came to a screeching halt, however, when a single shot rang out and a man fell to the ground, already dead from a bullet to the neck.

 

At the sound of gunfire, Danny Williams, the second-in-command of Five-O, spun around and scanned the area behind him. Seeing no movement, he ducked in behind his car and grabbed the microphone from the dash. “Williams to Central; gunshots fired, request assistance!” he called, tossing the mike back and continuing to watch the area where the shot had come from. When the silence remained unbroken, Dan ventured out from the shelter of the vehicle. Half way up the block, a crowd was gathering around the prone form of a man on the sidewalk. Dan trotted up, showing his shield and waving the crowd back as he gently turned the limp body over. With a start, he realized the dead man was Johnny Parr, occasional thief, fence, and generally useful source for information on the street. And thirty seconds ago, Danny had been speaking to him in the bright morning sunshine.

 

The squeal of tires and the sound of a slamming car door heralded the arrival of Steve McGarrett. Taking in the scene in a single sweeping glance, Five-O's lead detective made his way to Danny's side. “What've we got, Danno?” he asked as he looked down at the body on the sidewalk.

 

“Name's Johnny Parr,” replied Danny. “He's got a few priors for petty theft, and for fencing others' hot goods, but he's been straight for the past couple of years. As a matter of fact he's been one of my more reliable sources for information on the street for most of that time.”

 

“Oh?” Steve looked up sharply at that revelation. “He was one of yours?”

 

“Yes, as I said, one of my better ones,” Dan said. “I'd been talking to him, over there by the corner. We finished up, I went back to my car, and I heard the shot.” He shook his head, frowning. “He was killed just after we finished our meet.”

 

Steve nodded and looked thoughtfully at the younger man. “What case were you seeing him about today, Danno? Anything specific? Any notable person?”

 

“That's just it, Steve. There _was_ no specific case.” Danny looked perplexed. “This was just a casual check in with Parr, more a chance to pick up gossip from the street than anything else. It was just part of our routine.”

 

_**Tuesday** _

The second day of the week began with a bit of a scramble for Danny. Already running a bit later than he intended, he had one quick errand to run on his way to work. Clutching the bundle of clothing in one hand and his car keys in the other, he hurried through the parking lot towards his big black sedan. As he tossed the suits into the back seat, he glanced over at the white Mustang in the next parking spot. “Two more days, baby!” he murmured, as he thought ahead to the rare weekday off he had this week. His surfboard was already waxed and waiting to be affixed to the rack on his sports car. Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Danny climbed into his car and headed out of the lot.

 

Traffic was already getting heavy as Dan made his way to his routine Tuesday morning stop, a local dry cleaner that always seemed to take special care with his suits. Parking down the block from the shop, he picked up his bundle again and headed into the quiet, family-run business.

 

“Mr. Williams, good to see you!” Yan Lee, the bespectacled elderly owner of the shop was beaming as he greeted Danny. “But you're a bit late this morning, yes? I have your suits ready here for you!”

 

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. Yes, I am a bit late today.” Danny too was smiling as he handed over his dirty suits to shopkeeper and prepared to receive his clean ones. “Hope my boss doesn't mind; after all, we all have to look good on the job!”

 

Mr. Lee's eyes almost completely disappeared in his smile. “That is so,” he agreed. “You must be neatly dressed to protect our great islands from crime! See you next week, then, Mr. Williams!”

 

“Good-bye, Mr. Lee!” With a quick wave, Danny exited the dry cleaners and headed back down the sidewalk to his car. As he pulled back into moving traffic and drove past, he did not notice the figure, dressed completely in black, slip into the shop he had just vacated. He did not hear Yan Lee's soft cry of alarm as this figure pulled a knife. And he did not see the ensuing commotion as several HPD cars converged on the scene, responding to a report of an elderly man who was found, dead, with his throat slit.

 

_**Wednesday** _

The middle of the week arrived with a bang, literally, as a morning thunderstorm rolled through Honolulu. Danny and Kono, arriving at the Palace at the same time, dodged the raindrops together as they hurried up the stairs and into the shelter of the building. Grinning ruefully at each other, they shook off the droplets and headed up to the Five-O offices. Once inside, Danny grabbed a cup of coffee and entered his cubicle, shaking his head in dismay at the pile of reports awaiting his attention.

 

Several hours later found the whole Five-O team, with the addition of HPD Sergeant Duke Lukela, assembled in their commander's office. “Gentlemen,” Steve said. “Let's get this started. Individual briefings first, then we'll run through the set-up for Friday and the Governor's schedule at the Cherry Blossom Festival. Kono, why don't you begin please.”

 

One by one the men brought the lead detective and their fellow team members up to date on their current cases. Kono was working on a series of warehouse thefts; Chin was near to closing in on a ring of jewellery thieves that had been the downtown merchants' nemesis for months, it seemed. When it was Danny's turn to speak, he brought forward information on his files, finishing off with an update on the shooting of his informant two days earlier.

 

“HPD canvassed the area completely, and found no eyewitnesses. No shell casings, no weapon. It's as if the shooter disappeared into thin air. I checked into Parr's last few days, nothing out of the ordinary, no unusual contact or deviation from his normal life.” Danny snapped his notebook shut and looked up. “I'll keep at it, though.”

 

“Thank you.” Steve jotted a quick note on his pad. “Duke, what's on HPD's radar today, other than the Festival preparations?”

 

Duke nodded at Steve, and opened the folder in front of him. “Steve, there are no new developments in any cases that Five-O has any involvement in. There is, however, one new occurrence from earlier today that was flagged for Five-O's attention.” Here he turned and looked at Danny. “This was passed on to me by Patrolman Mark Kahama, Danny. He thought you might like to be aware of this.”

 

“Mark and I worked a beat together for a while.” Danny smiled at the recollection.

 

“His current assignment is in your neighbourhood,” Duke said. “He responded to a 'person down' call at your apartment complex this morning. The victim was identified as a Mrs. Veronica Wood, age 43, dead at the scene, with no immediate signs of foul play.” He shuffled his pages, then added, “HPD is waiting on the report from the coroner.”

 

Danny sat back in shock. “Mrs. Wood! She and her husband are the apartment complex property managers! As a matter of fact, I ... ” His voice trailed off as he paused, swallowing heavily. “I was just speaking to her this morning, on my way out to work.”

 

“Oh?” Steve eyed his second-in-command with concern. “What time was that, Danno?”

 

“I saw her at around seven thirty,” Danny replied. “It's almost the end of the month, and I make a point of speaking to Mr. or Mrs. Wood at this time every month. I pass off my next month's cheque, and I just see if everything is okay. I guess I kind of keep an unofficial eye on the place, to make sure there's no potential trouble brewing.”

 

“Stay on top of this file, Duke,” Steve instructed. “Anything pertinent, make sure Danno knows. And now, gentlemen...” he opened a thick folder on his desk. “Let's look at the schedule for Friday, and the Governor's appearances at the Cherry Blossom Festival. We'll be in groups of two, working with a team of HPD members and the Governor's own security detail.”

 

Kono nudged Danny before saying to Steve, “Okay, boss, which of us gets the introduction of the Festival Queen contestants this year? I'm sure it's my turn, Dan had it last year!” There was a general chuckle around the room as Steve handed out a sheet of paper to each detective; it turned to outright laughter as the men read their assignments – Chin and Duke were to be at the Festival Queen contestants' event, while Kono and Danny would be attending the Junior Chamber of Commerce luncheon!

 

Danny spent the rest of his afternoon and early evening in final security preparations for Friday's Festival events, making sure nothing was left to chance for the Governor's security. He made contact with his HPD team which, he was pleased to see, included his friend Mark Kahama. When he had cleared his desk to his satisfaction, Dan headed into his boss's office to touch base before leaving for the day.

 

“Steve,” Danny said as he entered McGarrett's inner sanctum. “If you have nothing else for me tonight, I think I'll head home. I've reviewed everything for Friday, no loose ends there.”

 

“Good, good,” replied Steve, looking up from his own stack of paperwork. “Anything else I should know, Danno?”

 

Danny shook his head. “No, nothing new since our briefing this afternoon. I plan to stop and see Mr. Wood, my building manager, this evening. Just to make sure he's okay, and see if there's anything I can do for him. And Steve,” Danny paused. “My day off tomorrow is still okay...?”

 

Steve allowed a small smile to escape. He knew Dan had been looking forward to his day off for a while, and that he had put in the extra hours necessary to clear up his workload. “Yes, Danno, tomorrow is still fine. Chin and Kono will be here, and we can run over any last-minute details for the Festival events on Friday morning. Go and enjoy your day!”

 

“Mahalo, Steve.” Danny's grin of relief was obvious. “See you Friday!”

 

Steve raised his hand in a quick wave as Dan left the office. A little tendril of concern unfurled in his mind as he thought about what his second-in-command had said with regards to visiting his building's manager, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what was bothering him. Sighing quietly, Steve returned his attention to the file in front of him, reassuring himself that the plans for Friday were as complete and comprehensive as he could make them.


	3. Thursday

_**Thursday** _

The morning dawned bright and clear, as if it knew that it had to be perfect. Dan Williams arose early; he had the whole day off and he intended to take advantage of every beautiful moment of it. After a quick breakfast on his lanai, he picked up his beach bag and his surfboard, and headed down to the parking garage where his mustang waited. Danny had plans which included his favourite stretch of beach and waves, followed by a late lunch at his equally-favourite waterfront cafe, with the day to wind up with a quiet sunset view from his favourite rocky point. It was just the kind of day that Dan needed, a recharging of his spirit which would allow him to return to the demands and stresses of his job as Steve McGarrett's second-in-command.

 

As it turned out, only a portion of Danny's day matched his plans. He had arrived at the beach, and as was his routine he had claimed his spot on the sand, and headed out into the surf without further delay. After a morning spent riding the waves, he had returned to the beach. Quickly drying off, he had grabbed his wallet and made his way to the little cafe where he had eaten many times before. During lunch he had laughed and flirted with his favourite waitress; relaxed and filled with good food Danny had returned to his place on the beach and settled in for a quiet snooze before resuming his activities in the surf. Then all hell had broken loose...

 

Danny jolted awake to the sound of panicked shouting. Scrambling to his feet, he saw a crowd gathering at the water's edge, not far from where he was. “Police officer! Five-O!” he called as he quickly approached the group. He pushed past the cluster of people, and immediately saw what they were looking at. Lying on the sand, where the waves gently met the beach, was the crumpled body of a girl which he recognized all too well. For not fifteen minutes earlier, she had served him his fruit salad and refilled his soda , all the while blushing at his outrageous, laughter-filled teasing.

 

“Danno.” The familiar voice was quiet, but firm, steadying the young detective. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

 

“Steve.” Danny subconsciously straightened his back as his boss approached. He mentally shook himself; he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even heard Steve approach, and now he knew he'd be expected to give a report. “She, uh, the victim is, I mean was, a waitress at the cafe.” He pointed across the beach; then, noticing his hand was trembling slightly, lowered it again, hoping Steve hadn't noticed. “Half an hour ago she served me dessert. Now she's dead.” He kicked at the sand with his bare feet, turning away and closing his eyes in an attempt to calm down.

 

“Take it easy, Danno.” Again came the quiet, anchoring tones from Steve.

 

Danny took a deep breath, forcing himself to exhale away the tension he felt building in his shoulders. When he turned back to face Steve, his professional mask was almost in place. “I'm okay, Steve,” Danny said. “I don't know what happened. I had lunch in the cafe, and came back to the beach to relax for a while before going back out into the waves. I guess I'd been dozing for a few minutes when I heard shouting, and then I saw...” He hesitated slightly. “And then I saw Kathy's body in the water, and I knew she was dead.”

 

Steve's jaw tightened at Danny's bare recitation of the facts, but he remained silent, looking thoughtfully down the beach. Kono and Chin approached the duo, the Chinese detective slipping slightly in the sand while his big Hawaiian companion moved with the sure-footedness of someone completely at home on the beach. “Gentlemen,” Steve greeted them. “What do you have for me?”

 

“HPD haven't found any witnesses yet, Steve,” Kono began. “A couple of surfers saw the girl go out the door and walk down the beach, but nobody actually saw anything happen to her. Doc's with the body now.”

 

Chin opened his notebook. “Just spoke with the owner of the cafe, boss. The girl's name was Kathy Johnson, age 22. She worked part time at the cafe, spent the rest of her time as a student at the university. Today she was on shift for the lunch crowd. Took her break around two o'clock. He says she picked up her own lunch from the back room and took it outside.” He looked up at Steve, continuing, “He doesn't know which way she went, or whether she had plans to meet anybody.”

 

“She didn't,” stated Dan. “Kathy was telling me she was looking forward to a little peace and quiet after a busy morning.” He gave Steve a fleeting, ironic smile. “Just like me, Steve, just like me.”

 


	4. Friday

_**Friday** _

Seven o'clock found Steve McGarrett sitting at his desk, where several file folders were open. A casual observer might be forgiven for thinking that he was staring into space, but closer inspection would have revealed the intense concentration in his dark blue eyes. Abruptly Steve stood, pacing the short distance to the lanai doors and almost wrenching them open. He stepped outside and took a deep breath of the cool morning air, attempting to clear his head and shake off the feeling of foreboding. The little knot of disquiet at the back of his mind had grown into full-fledged apprehension over the last two days. Although all the detectives saw death on an unfortunately regular basis, Steve had to admit that Danny seemed to have seen more than his fair share in the past few days.

 

Taking a last look at the early-morning sky, the Five-O chief turned back to his office, hoping that the day's routine of supervising the Governor's security would provide a measure of calm which his second-in-command so clearly needed. With his attention once again focused on the notes in front of him, Steve didn't look up again until his four detectives filed into the room, ready for their final briefing on the day's activities.

 

Several hours later, Kono watched mournfully as a serenely smiling Chin and Duke left the Five-O offices on their way to The Royal Hawaiian, where the Festival Queen contestants would be introduced. Standing in the doorway of Danny's cubicle, the big Hawaiian detective watched the door close and sighed dramatically. “That, bruddah, is what _we_ will be doing this time next year!” he stated, emphasizing his words with gesturing hands. “We'll give the old guys a break and let them go to the business luncheon instead!”

 

“And which _old guys_ will be needing that break, Kono?” Steve asked, as he breezed past the two younger men, shrugging into his jacket and straightening his tie as he headed for the door. “I look forward to your report on the luncheon. Aloha, gentlemen...”

 

A quiet chuckle sounded from within Dan's workspace, as the door snapped shut behind Steve. “After that remark, my friend, you'll be attending the Chamber of Commerce luncheon for the next ten years!” With a slightly weary grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, Danny gave Kono a quick pat on the shoulder. “Come on, you and I had better head out too. The Governor is going straight from the reception to the luncheon, so we'll need to be set up and in place soon.”

 

Continuing to grumble under his breath, Kono followed Danny out of the office and down the Palace steps. Climbing into Dan's car, the two detectives drove off to meet up with their HPD team and prepare for the arrival of the Governor.

 

O o O o O

 

The Festival Queen contestants put on a good show for the Governor and the visiting Japanese dignitaries. While Steve McGarrett generally avoided attending splashy cultural observations, this was one such event where he could not refuse the Governor's invitation. He stayed on the periphery, however, observing the security details and taking a moment to speak to his two assigned detectives.

 

“Well, gentlemen, all seems to be in order,” Steve said. “Did any issues arise that I need to know about?”

 

Chin shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary, Steve. When the Governor and the other VIP's leave, Duke and I will follow their convoy to the banquet hall. We'll touch base with Danny and Kono, then head back to the office.”

 

“That's okay, Chin, I'll take your place in the convoy. I want to check in with Danno myself, before he gets too tied up with the event,” Steve explained.

 

“Sure thing, boss.” Chin's eyes mirrored the concern that was in Steve's expression. “We'll grab some lunch, then, and see you back at the office later.” As an afterthought, he added, “Enjoy the luncheon, Steve. Hope it's as entertaining as the reception this morning!”

 

Steve gave a rueful grin as he moved off to rejoin the Governor. “Mahalo, my friend! I'm sure it will be!”

 

After seeing the Governor and his group safely to their limousines, Chin Ho and Duke left the Royal Hawaiian. They were about half way back to the Palace when the police radio in the car suddenly erupted in a flurry of transmissions.

 

“Shots fired! Shots fired!” A frantic, panic-stricken shout burst from the speaker.

 

“Gunshots... officer down!” A second voice joined the fray.

 

Duke had the lights and siren activated, and was turning the car around in the direction of the banquet hall when the third call came over the radio.

 

“Five-O to Central; this is Five-O to Central. Declaring a Red Alert, repeat, a Red Alert.” Kono's voice sounded steady, but both Chin and Duke could hear the sounds of chaos in the background. “Gunshots fired, officer down. Request ambulance and backup immediately!” As Kono's transmission ended, the cool, level voice of the dispatcher was heard broadcasting the call for backup. The two veteran detectives exchanged a worried look, then Duke pushed his foot down more firmly on the accelerator, sending the car speeding that much faster to its destination.

 

O o O o O

 

Dan's world had narrowed to encompass only the small space in front of him. Peripherally he was aware of jostling crowds of people, shouts of panic, and in the distance, sirens. All of the commotion, however, was the background noise that framed the pain-filled gasping breaths of his friend and former partner Mark Kahama as he lay on the ground. One minute, there had been an easy greeting and handshake between long-standing acquaintances; the next, gunshots, blood, and a horrified Danny had caught the body of his friend and eased him to the ground.

 

“Mark!” Danny quickly pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to the gaping bullet wound in Mark's chest, realizing even as he did so how inadequate his effort was. “Hang on, help is already on the way! Do you hear me? Hang on!”

 

Kono dropped down on one knee beside Danny. “Ambulance is called, more backup is on the way, Danny,” he reported. “HPD are sealing the grounds off and starting a search.” Danny nodded his acknowledgement without complete awareness of what Kono had said; on a subconscious level he knew and accepted that his fellow detective would take control of the situation.

 

“Danny.” The pained whisper was almost too faint for Dan to hear. “Hell of a way ... to say ... hello, partner.” Mark Kahama grasped weakly at his arm. “God, Dan, it hurts to breathe...”

 

“Easy, Mark. Don't move around!” Danny shifted slightly, trying to make his friend more comfortable while maintaining pressure on the bullet wound.

 

“Careful, Five-O,” Mark gasped out. A ghost of a smile crossed his face in spite of his struggle to stay conscious. “Don't want ... to get your ... pretty suit ... dirty.”

 

Danny choked off a laugh that threatened to erupt as a sob. “Not likely, Patrol,” he retorted.

 

“Listen, Danny,” Mark's voice was growing weaker. “Tell Malina ... I will always ... love her ... Promise me...”

 

“Mark, don't talk like that! You can tell her yourself!” Danny watched in alarm as his friend's eyes closed. “Mark, don't do this, man. Mark!” Looking up, he saw the ambulance pull into the drive, and frantically waved to get the attendants' attention. “Hurry, over here!”

 

Minutes later Duke and Chin arrived at the scene, passing the departing ambulance as they wheeled into the banquet hall's parking lot. Exiting the vehicle quickly, both men looked for a familiar face in the milling crowds of people and police officers.

 

Kono emerged from the melee and immediately hurried toward his fellow Five-O detectives. “Chin, Duke, am I glad you're here!” he exclaimed.

 

Chin looked around, a concerned expression on his face. “Where's Danny?” he asked. “He wasn't the one...” he trailed off, unable to complete the question, almost afraid of the answer.

 

“No, Danny's okay,” Kono was quick to reassure the two worried men. “It was his friend, Mark Kahama, shot down right beside him! He looked real bad, bruddah. Danny went with him in the ambulance.” Chin and Duke exchanged a relieved glance. “Steve is with the Governor and the VIP's, making sure they got away safely,” Kono continued. “He said he was going to the hospital afterward, to meet up with Danny.”

 

“Right.” Chin's succinct response and brisk nod brought them back to the task at hand. “Let's get finished up here, and get back to the office. Steve will want a report when he and Danny get there.”

 

O o O o O

 

Danny Williams paced the waiting area of the Emergency Department at Queen's Hospital, tension visible in every step. It had been slightly more than an hour since they had arrived and Mark had been rushed into an examination room, an hour in which the scene at the banquet hall had played out over and over again in Dan's mind. The distant crack of the shot (a sniper's rifle, the analytical part of his mind mused), the screams of the crowd, and weight of his friend in his arms as he collapsed; these were the images and sensations that kept clawing at his thoughts in a grim, steady refrain.

 

“Danno.”

 

Steve McGarrett's quiet voice behind him caused Danny to jump slightly. He had been unaware of his entry into the waiting room. “Steve,” he acknowledged, halting his slow pace around the room to face his boss. “Is the Governor okay?” he asked, knowing that the politician's safety would have been Steve's primary concern once the shooting had started.

 

“Yes, Danno, the Governor is fine,” Steve responded. “But more importantly, how are you, Danno? Are you okay?”

 

“Yes. No.” Danny corrected himself immediately. “No, I am not okay. Mark was shot in cold blood, right beside me! Targeted by a sniper! I can still hear the sound... the sound the bullets made...” He stopped, unable to continue for a moment. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, Danny resumed his pacing. “You know,” he said, almost conversationally. “Mark could have been a detective years ago. He and I were offered the promotion at the same time; I took it, he didn't. Mark always felt he could make a better contribution as a patrolman, working the streets on a beat. He was comfortable there, and he was a damn good cop. And there's a lot of younger beat cops working out there that had the benefit of his experience on patrol.” Danny's thin veneer of control began to fray as he strode back and forth. “What did I miss? Were there signs of trouble I should have seen?”

 

Steve watched his second-in-command pace for a moment longer, then stepped in beside him to slow him down. “Look, Danno,” he began. But whatever he was going to say was halted when the door to the treatment room opened and a sombre-looking doctor came out into the waiting room. Following the doctor was a young woman, sobbing quietly, supported on one side by a nurse and on the other by a senior HPD officer. Steve's heart sank; the worst possible outcome had happened. He quickly stepped closer to Danny and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

Danny didn't need to hear the words to know what the doctor was going to tell him. But he listened to them anyway, bracing himself not to physically flinch from the official notification that Patrolman Mark Kahama had succumbed to his injuries despite the best efforts of the medical staff. Shrugging off Steve's supporting hand, Dan moved to where Mark's wife, now a widow, was sitting in a chair. Kneeling beside her, he took her hand. “I'm so sorry, Malina,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

 

Malina Kahama raised tear-filled eyes to Danny. “Why?” she asked. “Why would this happen to Mark? Who would do this, Danny? What kind of monster would shoot my husband?”

 

Danny swallowed hard and gripped Malina's hand a little tighter. “We don't know yet,” he answered. “But I tell you, we _will_ find out who did it. I promise you that.” He stood, maintaining eye contact with the woman. “His last words to me were for you, Malina. He told me to tell you... that he loved you.” Danny swallowed again. “I truly am sorry I couldn't keep him safe for you.”

 

Malina managed a faint smile for him. “It makes it a bit better to know he had a friend with him, at the end. Thank you for that, Danny.” She rose and nodded to the HPD officer. “I'm ready to go now, please.” With a final quick squeeze of Danny's hand she made her way out the door, leaving behind the distressed and shaking young man.

 

Steve moved forward and again placed his hand on his second-in-command's shoulder, but Danny recoiled from the touch, twisting away from the comfort Steve was offering. “She asked the right questions, didn't she... who, and why?” he said harshly. He stalked angrily toward the exit, but turned back to face Steve. “Why indeed?!” he shouted. “Just because he was wearing a uniform? Just because he was standing next to me?! Oh God, that's it, isn't it?” he choked out, the anger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, to be replaced with a growing horror. “It's me, I'm the reason Mark is dead! It's all my fault!”

 

Steve stood silently, watching with dismay as his friend came to the same conclusion which had already occurred to him. “Let's go back to the office, Danno,” he said quietly. “Chin will have a report for us, and we can get started on our search for this killer.”

 

Numbly Danny allowed Steve to lead him from the hospital and seat him in the passenger seat of the Mercury. In silence he rode back to the Palace, oblivious to Steve's concerned glances, lost in a wash of dread and guilt.


	5. The Aftermath - Friday

_**The Aftermath - Friday** _

 

Steve paced the length of his office, his worry and concern clearly evident. A grave-faced Chin sat in one of the room's white chairs, while Kono occupied the other. But it was the fourth person in the room where Steve's attention was focused.

 

Danny Williams sat on the sofa, still wearing his blood-splattered suit from earlier in the day. His eyes were frighteningly blank, his face expressionless, contrasting sharply with his earlier display of raw emotion. He showed no awareness of his surroundings, his attention seemingly caught and held by some internal, nightmarish train of thought.

 

“All right, gentlemen,” Steve's voice broke the charged silence in the room. “It's now obvious we're dealing with some kind of sick, twisted scheme, directed against Danno. Perhaps we should have seen it sooner, but nevertheless, here we are now.” The Five-O chief paused, staring out the window at the darkening sky.

 

Chin took a deep breath, looking with concern at the young man sitting so still on the sofa. “Four deaths this week, all people who had some sort of association with Danny.”

 

“Better make that five.” Duke stood at the door, holding a file in his hand. “Steve, I just finished that review of HPD cases you asked for, of all deaths this week in the city. I found another one that has a link to Danny.”

 

On the other side of the room, Dan started violently, then seemed to become even paler, even more withdrawn at Duke's words.

 

“What have we got, Duke?” asked Steve.

 

“Tuesday morning, Mr. Yan Lee, age 68, the owner of a dry-cleaning shop, was found with his throat cut. The clothes and receipts on the counter show that the last customer in the store was Danny.” Duke looked up from the report. “The body was found at around eight fifteen.”

 

“About ten minutes after I'd been there,” Danny said tonelessly, abruptly breaking his self-imposed silence. “He gave me my clean suits. We joked about me being neatly dressed to fight crime. Neatly dressed!” he spat out. “I get clean suits and he gets killed! Oh God...!” Danny broke off, dropping his head into his hands, rocking back and forth in distress.

 

Steve quickly crossed the room to stand at his second's side. Placing a hand on Danny's shoulder, he gave a squeeze and a gentle shake, drawing the shaken young man's attention away from his inner torment. “Easy, Danno,” he said. “I know what you must be feeling, but we're going to need your help _right now_ if we're going to find out who's doing this and stop him. And let's be very clear,” Steve tightened his fingers on Danny's shoulder as he spoke. “We _will_ stop him.”

 

Steve strode back to his desk, and immediately Kono rose and took his place at Danny's side, sitting down beside his friend. Chin also moved over to stand beside Dan's other side. The sight of his team, united in their support of their younger colleague, gave Steve a moment of fierce pride before he pulled his attention back to the problem at hand.

 

“Five deaths, then, gentlemen. Five days, five deaths.” Steve picked up a piece of chalk, and moved to the blackboard, preparing to write as he spoke. “Monday, the snitch Johnny Parr, in the open markets. Tuesday, the dry cleaner in his shop. Both obviously murdered. Wednesday, it was Danno's apartment manager, and Thursday, the waitress from the restaurant. Both deaths suspicious, cause unknown. Doc Bergman can help us there. And today...” Steve trailed off. “Patrolman Mark Kahama, shot dead six hours ago.” He paced in front of the board, snapping his fingers as he studied his notations. “What do these five people have in common?”

 

“Me.” Danny's answer was brief, to the point. “I was with all of them right before they died.”

 

“Okay, then,” Steve responded. “What _don't_ they have in common?”

 

“Cause of death is different for most of them, Steve,” Chin offered. “Two shootings, a stabbing, probable drowning; one still unknown but no obvious reason.”

 

“Yes, that's right.” Steve confirmed as he added notes to the board. “If we're talking about one person, this is a pretty impressive skill set for him to have. And let's add to that the ability to blend in to his surroundings, to _not_ get noticed in a crowd.” At Kono's puzzled look he added “It's obvious that this killer has been following Danno, sometimes pretty closely, to be able to get to his victims. If Danno didn't notice anything unusual, then this guy is good, probably a professional.” Kono nodded in understanding.

 

“And that leads to the next question,” Steve continued, turning to face Danny. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary, people who didn't look right or seemed out of place, vehicles following you? What about an investigation taking a strange turn?”

 

Danny thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I can't recall anything that seemed unusual. This was supposed to be a quiet week, just routine until today, anyhow... Not quite how it turned out, though.” He looked away, the blankness beginning to return to his eyes.

 

“Danno.” Steve's voice drew Dan's attention back. “One last question. Have you received any threats from anybody in the last couple of weeks? Any phone calls, suspicious mail? Here or at home?”

 

“No, nothing,” Danny stated.

 

“All right, this is what we're going to do,” Steve began his directions. “Chin, Kono, check with the Department of Corrections, see if any recent releases or parolees have any connections with Danno. Duke, contact Doc Bergman, we need those autopsy reports for Danno's building manager and the waitress.”

 

“We're on it, boss.”

 

“Right away, Steve.”

 

As the detectives rose to leave Steve's office, each man passed close to Danny, clapping him on the shoulder and murmuring words of support before they headed out the door. Then there was silence, and Steve and Danny were left to study the notes on the board in the centre of the room.

 

Steve watched Danny struggle to pull himself together. From the younger man's rapid jerky breathing, clenching fists and tense set of his shoulders it was obvious that he was fighting quite a battle. But even as Steve continued his observation, Dan grew calmer, more steady. The act of studying the blackboard, which the two men had done together for so many cases, had the effect of focussing the detectives' thinking on the investigation at hand, pushing even the most potent personal feelings aside.

 

After a few moments Danny gave a great shuddering sigh. Looking down at his suit jacket, he shook his head in dismay at his appearance. “Steve, I think I'll step out for a moment, get some clean clothes. Then I'll be back to look at this again,” he said, waving a hand towards the board as he moved toward the office door.

 

“Okay, Danno,” Steve nodded his agreement as he too stepped away from his notes. “Bring in your case files, too, current and recently completed.” He watched Dan leave the room and turn in to his cubicle, both impressed and gratified to see his second-in-command set aside his grief and turmoil, even temporarily, and begin to think like the dedicated investigator that he was. Shrugging out of his own jacket and loosening his tie, Steve headed for the coffeepot. It was going to be a long evening of work in the Five-O offices.

 

O o O o O

 

Two hours later Steve called all the detectives back into his office for an update. Rising and stretching his aching back, he watched as the men filed in, fatigue also evident in their movements and facial expressions. His gaze rested the longest on his second-in-command, who had once again settled himself on the sofa and was beginning to show a disquieting return to his earlier state of withdrawal. “Okay, gentlemen,” he began. “Let's start to fill in some of the blanks. Duke, did you get the autopsy reports?”

 

“Yes, Steve, I did,” Duke replied, looking down at the file in his hand. “Doc Bergman had them sent over. The apartment manager, Mrs. Wood, died of an overdose of barbiturates after she was knocked unconscious from a blow to the back of her head. The cause of death for Kathy Johnson, the waitress at the cafe, was just what it looked like, drowning. Doc's report also says that there was bruising on her neck and shoulders, like she was held under the water.” Duke closed his folder and sat back, his grim recitation of the facts complete.

 

Steve picked up a piece of chalk and began the unpleasant task of updating the information on the blackboard. A distressing picture was beginning to emerge, and in black and white on the board the facts looked even more disturbing.

 

Turning back to face the room, Steve looked next to Chin. “Tell me you have some useful information,” he said, casting yet another concerned glance at Danny's huddled form on the sofa.

 

“Steve, we've heard from the State Parole Board, and State Corrections. We've got a list of releases and parolees. Kono is about half way through checking the names to see who is in Honolulu right now. Nothing concrete so far.” Chin paused briefly. “We're still waiting to hear from authorities on the mainland. Probably won't be for several more hours, though.”

 

“Okay Chin, thanks.” Steve settled back in his chair. “Danno and I have spent the last couple of hours looking through his case files. There is no recently-completed or current investigation that would seem to involve anybody with either the capability or a motive for this week's events. So it appears likely we're dealing with someone from the more distant past. This may make him more difficult to find, gentlemen, but we will find him. We _must_ find him! And soon, before he has the opportunity to strike again!” Without being aware of it Steve had risen and begun to pound his fist on the desk in front of him, raising his voice as he spoke. Three startled gazes met his, and he stepped back, stilling his hand but retaining the look of intense determination on his face. “Go home, gentlemen,” he continued, in more quiet tones. “We'll have the rest of the reports from the mainland in the morning, and we can get a fresh start then.”

 

Kono, Chin and Duke rose slowly from their chairs and filed from the room. For the second time that evening, they passed by Danny, each man again expressing his support for their distressed and hurting colleague. Dan roused himself, acknowledging them with quiet murmured thanks, aware of and grateful for his friends' concern.

 

“You too, Danno,” Steve said to his second-in-command. “It's time to go home and get some rest.” He held up a hand to forestall Dan's protest. “You've had a very long and difficult day, my friend. Come on and let me drive you home. You'll be able to focus much better in the morning. We all will. And I promise you, we _will_ find this madman.”

 

“All right, Steve, I'll go.” Initially prepared to argue, Dan reconsidered the idea and acknowledged to himself just how exhausted he did feel. He found himself once again ensconced in the passenger seat of Steve's Mercury. When they arrived at his apartment complex, Danny allowed Steve to escort him to his door, and even to do a quick sweep of the apartment to ensure there was nobody else there. But he refused Steve's offer to stay for a while, citing the late hour and reassuring him that he would be all right for the rest of the night.

 

“Good night Danno.” Steve said. “I'll see you in the morning. Call me if you need anything before then, okay?” He reluctantly took his leave, deeply concerned but recognizing and respecting Danny's desire to be alone.

 

By himself at last, Danny felt the emotional upheaval of the past few hours wash over him in a huge unstoppable wave. In the dark silence of his living room, he collapsed on his couch, finally allowing the hot bitter tears of grief to escape.


	6. The Aftermath - Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! I was doing some 'housecleaning' here and discovered I hadn't actually finished posting this story! Here's the next chapter, with the rest to follow in short order.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Danny's gaze rested on the small alarm clock on his bedside table. In the dim pre-dawn light of his bedroom, he was barely able to make out the numbers, but it was becoming painfully obvious that there would be no more sleep for him this night. Dan had spent a good many of the hours of darkness lying awake, staring into the shadows. The few times he had actually drifted off to sleep, he had almost immediately been jolted awake by the nightmare-inducing images and sounds of the previous afternoon running in a seemingly endless loop through his mind.

With a sigh, Danny rose from the bed and headed for the bathroom, hoping that a splash of cold water on his face might help clear his aching head. The face that looked back at him from the mirror looked pale and drawn; his tired bloodshot eyes had deep dark circles under them. Dragging a hand through his hair, Dan shook his head at the picture he presented. He abruptly wheeled around, striding across his living room to the lanai doors and stepping outside into the cool morning air. The sight of the ocean as it began to reflect the early-morning light caught his interest, and he decided to go down to the beach for a swim. 

The beach was almost deserted so early in the morning, with just a few people walking or jogging along the boardwalk. The sand was empty, as was the water, the waves lapping in gently to the shoreline. Danny set down his towel and shrugged out of his sweatshirt, leaving both in a neat pile on the sand. Walking toward the waterline, he stretched his arms above his head and took several slow deep breaths. Then, with a smooth run, he was in the water and stroking away from the shore in a strong steady crawl.

Danny swam for more than an hour before he allowed himself to feel the burn of fatigue. Pushing hard for one last lap of his 'circuit' around a pair of marker buoys, he eased into the shallower water, breathing heavily as he walked up onto the beach. The exercise had done its job; he felt awake, refreshed, and more ready to face the realities of what was sure to be a difficult day. Towelling himself dry, Danny pulled on his shirt and made his way back up to the boardwalk.

There were more people around now, both on the beach and the boardwalk, with the sun fully risen and the day underway. Dan watched the gentle bustle of the waterfront businesses as they opened up, soaking up the relative calm of the moment before heading back to his apartment. He decided to pick up a paper, and turned toward a nearby newsstand. As he did, he saw a glaring headline across the top of the newspaper. Danny gasped for breath, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Almost immediately a wave of guilt and regret washed over him, almost staggering him in its intensity. With a strangled cry of _"No!"_ , Dan backed away from the newsstand. Ignoring the questioning looks from curious passers-by, he dropped his towel, and turned and ran.

* * * 

Steve McGarrett slammed the newspaper down on his desk in disgust. _'TRAIL OF DEATH FOLLOWS FIVE-O DETECTIVE'_ , the headline shouted in bold black letters. Underneath the words was a grainy photograph of Danny kneeling beside the prone form of his friend Mark Kahama. The photographer had managed to capture the anguish in the detective's expression as he looked down at the wounded HPD patrolman. Filling the front page of the paper, the two items together were equally effective and devastating.

“Where did they get their information?” Steve growled at Chin Ho and Kono as he scanned the article. “The reporter has mentioned three of the killings this week, and hints at one more! _We_ didn't even put it together until last night!” He pushed the newspaper across the desk toward the Oriental detective. “See if you can find out what his source is, Chin. We don't want to have to worry about plugging a leak while we're trying to track this killer down!"

Chin picked up the paper. “I know there's a couple of hotshot young kids new on the crime beat, Steve,” he said. “Maybe they just read the daily press briefs from HPD and tried to put together a good story.”

Steve responded with a scowl. “This is not the kind of speculative reporting that we need right now! I want you to shut down their storytelling right away. We have no comment on any connection between Danno and these killings. Understand?”

“Okay Steve,” Chin replied. “I'll go and talk to the editor myself.”

“Hey boss, you better hope Danny doesn't see this paper,” Kono said solemnly. “He was already feeling so bad...” He trailed off, shaking his head in concern.

Steve tensed, as if he hadn't thought of that possibility. He immediately picked up his phone and dialled Danny's number, frowning when there was no answer after more than a dozen rings. “Hmm, Danno's not answering. He may be out for a run or swim, or even on his way in already...” Steve hesitated, then replaced the handset in the cradle. “No matter; Danno should be here in a little while. Let's not leave the paper lying around for him to find, okay? Now, let's carry on with your list of names, Kono. Is all the information in from the mainland?” The men turned their attention back to the investigation, each hoping for a break in the case before the madman struck again.

* * * 

Danny ran until he felt he couldn't run anymore; then he pushed himself for a further few moments, finally coming to a halt a long way down the beach from where he had been swimming. Gasping for breath, he collapsed to his knees in the sand. The damning headline burned into his mind, mocking his earlier attempts to stay calm and focussed on the investigation. The guilt and grief threatened to overwhelm him again, leaving him struggling for control over his churning emotions. Gradually his breathing slowed, but the inner turmoil remained, keeping him immobile on the sand.

“Mister!” The bright young voice of a child intruded on Danny's consciousness. “Hey, mister, are you all right?”

Danny slowly became aware of his surroundings, hearing the voice of the child and feeling a small hand tugging at his sleeve. He blinked and looked around, for a brief moment unsure of where he was or how he had gotten there. “Yeah, sure, kid, I'm okay,” he reassured the youngster, giving his head a quick shake and pushing himself to his feet. Reaching down, he scruffed the young boy's hair. “Thanks for asking. Now go on back to your mother, okay?”

Dan watched as the boy ran back across the beach to where his mother was waiting. With a start, he realized it was probably approaching mid-morning; Steve would have expected him at the office long before now! Tired and thirsty, he turned and trudged along the beach, towards his apartment complex far in the distance. The long walk home would not only give him opportunity to think about the case, it would also provide the time he required to regain some of his fragile equilibrium before heading in to the Five-O offices.

Finally arriving back at his apartment, Danny walked along the corridor, fished his key out of his sweatshirt pocket and unlocked the door. Engrossed with his thoughts as he was, he failed to notice the shadowy figure inside the room until it was too late. Dan felt a sharp blinding pain at the back of his head, and collapsed instantly into darkness.


	7. The Aftermath - Discovery

“We're missing something, gentlemen,” Steve declared, pushing away from his desk in frustration. He rose and began to pace the room, snapping his fingers as he walked. For the other men in the office, it was a familiar pattern; their boss often did some of his best thinking this way. The Five-O chief stopped in front of his blackboard, studying the notes, trying to see any hint which had so far eluded him. “There is information here to tell us who we're dealing with. We just haven't found it yet.”

Chin and Kono exchanged a glance, their own frustration also evident. “We've been through the lists of suspects, Steve,” Chin said quietly. “Not one name stands out. Is it possible that we're dealing with more than one killer, and the fact that this all happened in the same week is just a bad coincidence?”

“No, I don't think so, Chin,” Steve replied. “The patterns that I do see indicate all the murders having a direct connection with Danno, and each one gets closer to him as the week progresses. In fact,” he said, snapping his fingers again. “Each one gets closer on a _personal_ level! From a snitch at work, to casual acquaintances, to a close personal friend! No coincidence would have that much of an orderly sequence! Yes, I do indeed think we are dealing with just one killer. And if his name is not on any of our lists, gentlemen, then we need to expand those lists, and quickly.”

* * * 

Danny came to his senses slowly, initially aware only of a throbbing headache and the disquieting sensation that minutes or hours could have passed; he had absolutely no idea. Opening his eyes, he realized he was tied to one of his kitchen chairs, which had been placed in the middle of his living room. Flexing his arms slightly, he discovered the bonds were perfectly tensioned to keep him completely immobile without cutting off the circulation. A very professional job, he reluctantly acknowledged to himself, especially when combined with the fact that his attacker had managed to break into his apartment and take him completely by surprise.

Dan looked around and saw that he was alone in the living room, but he could hear the sounds of someone moving around in the bedroom. Warily he watched as a figure appeared in the doorway and walked out into the hall toward the kitchen. To Danny's surprise, the intruder continued to wander around the whole apartment, occasionally picking up an object or studying a photograph, but never once looking in his direction. After observing this for a few moments, Danny could no longer remain silent. “Hey!” he called out to the man. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

The man continued his slow perusal of the apartment without giving any indication he had heard the questions. Finally, however, he turned and faced Danny for the first time. “Hello, Detective Williams. It's good to see you're finally awake and able to join me.”

Dan blinked and stared at the man, trying without much success to clear his stress and headache-clouded mind. While he looked and sounded somewhat familiar, he could not immediately put a name to the face of his intruder. What was obvious, however, was the fact that the man knew _him_ by both name and title. Striving to keep his expression neutral, Danny nevertheless must have shown some confusion, because the man quickly moved in closer.

“What's this, Detective? You don't remember who I am? Why, I'm disappointed in you!” The man stared back at Danny. “Although it has been a few years since our first encounter. And you have had a very long and exhausting week, haven't you? Maybe I should have expected it...”

Danny frowned at the reference to the events of the past week, wondering if the man was involved somehow, or if he had merely read the morning paper. Taking another good look at him, however, Dan suddenly drew in a sharp breath of startled recognition. “Gerald Fullerton,” he whispered. “How can you be here? You should be...”

“In that hospital on the mainland?” The intruder's eyed flashed briefly, although his tone of voice remained mild. “Locked up with the key thrown away? Well, Detective Williams, as you can clearly see, I am neither. When I was released last month, I decided to return to your wonderful city, and pay you a visit. So here I am; aren't you going to welcome me?”

* * * 

Mid-morning found Steve standing on his lanai, sipping at a cooling cup of coffee while he looked out over the Palace grounds. His detectives were once again checking through the lists of possible suspects as provided by the State Correctional Services, both locally and from the mainland. He had personally been through his second-in-command's files, confirming once again that there was no one case that stood out as suspicious. Turning back to the office door, he found himself wondering when Danno would arrive at the office. The previous evening he had told his distraught detective to take his time in the morning, to make sure he was rested and as clear-headed as possible before coming to work. Now, starting to grow concerned that Danny had not yet made an appearance, he decided to touch base with him.

Just as Steve sat down and reached for the phone, it rang, the sound breaking the silence in the office. Jumping slightly, he grabbed the handset and barked his usual _“McGarrett”_ with more force than usual.

“Steve, it's Bergman here.” The chief coroner didn't show any hesitation at Steve's gruff manner. “I may have something for you.”

Steve immediately straightened in his chair. “That's the best news I've heard in a while, Doc!” he said, grabbing a pencil and preparing to take notes. “What is it?”

“I've completed the bloodwork on victim number three, the apartment building manager.” Bergman began his report. “She was the one who died from the overdose of barbiturates. It appears that she was injected with a massive dose after being knocked unconscious.”

“Yes, yes, we know that already, Doc,” Steve interrupted impatiently.

“Yes, but what you _don't_ know already is the specific variety of the drug that was used,” Bergman retorted. “Our killer used a very rare formulation, one that is so unusual it has made it easy to track down the source. This particular drug is still so experimental, it's being used in only one place in the country right now.”

“Come on, Doc, out with it!” Steve fairly shouted into the phone.

“The drug is being used in patient trials at a rather inappropriately named institution called the Fairhaven Hospital. It's a mental hospital in California. The inmates, er, patients are mostly current or former military members who have been unable to cope with reality after returning from active duty. The military also uses one wing as a place to incarcerate and treat soldiers, head cases who have been convicted of a serious crime and need more than just military prison.” Bergman paused for breath, then added, “Sounds like a perfect spot for your suspect to have come from, Steve.”

“Yes, it sure does,” Steve responded. “Mahalo, Doc! You may have just given us the break we need!”

* * * 

“You seem surprised to see me, Detective Williams,” Fullerton said to Danny. “Oh, congratulations on your promotion out of HPD, by the way. It's good to see your talents are appreciated, isn't it? I can still remember when some people used to appreciate my abilities, back before...” He stopped and gave himself a quick shake. “How long ago did it happen?”

At first Danny could only blink in astonishment at the casual, friendly, but completely one-sided conversation that Fullerton seemed intent on having. Looking at the man more closely, however, Dan noticed a vagueness in his expression; a blank, unfocussed look in his eyes. It was enough to set off a noisy chorus of alarm bells in his mind.

The inane chatter continued. “The last time we met, Detective, you were still just a patrolman. I suppose the move up allowed you to afford such a nice apartment.” Fullerton resumed his slow stroll around the room, pausing this time in front of the lanai doors. “And the view is terrific! But of course, you already know that, I'm sure. Everything looks so neat, so well maintained...” he trailed off almost wistfully, staring out at the ocean.

“Fullerton.” Danny tried to keep his voice quiet and reassuring. “Let me go. You'll gain nothing by keeping me prisoner. I can make a couple of calls, get you some assistance here in Honolulu if you need it...”

“Assistance! Ha!” Fullerton shouted, suddenly and explosively furious. “The last time you offered me assistance, Williams, I ended up in a mental hospital! All I wanted, all I _needed_ to be doing was serving my country. But your _assistance_ took that away from me! And what did the army leave me with? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! All because of you and your damned assistance.”

* * * 

“Gerald Thomas Fullerton.” Steve wrote the name on the blackboard in bold strokes, underlining it twice for emphasis. “This, gentlemen, is the name of our killer. Chin, Kono, what have you got for us?”

Chin stepped forward and handed Steve two photographs, which the Five-O chief promptly taped onto the board. “Fullerton's whole file came through a few minutes ago, Steve, including these two photos. The first one,” he pointed to a formal portrait of a clean-cut young man in a military uniform. “This is Fullerton ten years ago, and this second photo here, an HPD mug shot, is from his arrest eight years ago.”

“An HPD mug shot? Eight years ago?” Steve was trying to put it all together in his thoughts. “Was this when he crossed paths with Danno?”

Chin shuffled the papers in front of him. “This happened eight years ago, Steve. Gerald Fullerton was a highly qualified Army Ranger, but something in his mind went funny. There was a hostage situation at a social club, a bar where servicemen went when they were on R & R. Fullerton just flipped out, thought everyone around him was the enemy and he needed to protect the civilians in the room.” He handed Steve another page from the file. “The HPD report states that one man from the first unit on the scene went in to try to talk to Fullerton, to persuade him to give it up before anyone got seriously hurt. That man was...”

“Let me guess; Patrolman Danny Williams.” Steve scanned the sheet of paper and shook his head in dismay. “Fresh on the beat, with a university specialty in psychology. The perfect person to send in to talk to a man on the edge.”

Chin nodded. “The report says that Danny talked Fullerton into surrendering, with no loss of life on either side. The Military Police collected him from the HPD lockup, because the Army had jurisdiction over their own man. He was tried, convicted and sentenced within the military justice system. There was no HPD follow-up, there was no need.”

“So Fullerton was sent to the mental hospital for incarceration and treatment.” Steve was back to pacing and finger snapping, as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “He spent eight years there, and was finally released... when?”

Kono took up the story. “Fullerton was released from the hospital more than six weeks ago. Airline records show that he flew into Honolulu two days later. He spent a week at a cut rate motel before he found a hostel room to rent.” He flipped the page in his notebook. “Got a job at service station, worked for a month but his boss hasn't seen him in a week; said he was going to fire him the next time he saw him!”

“It all fits, gentlemen.” Steve said grimly. “A highly trained, mentally unbalanced Army Ranger is sent to a mental hospital and probably blames the HPD officer that helped send him there – Danno. When he's released and comes back for revenge, we can't find out about it and make the connection because military releases aren't normally a part of our information protocols. And now he's killed five people; with his training he definitely has the necessary skill set to have done it without drawing any attention to himself.” Steve looked at Kono expectantly. “Do we have the address of the hostel where he's living?”

“Yeah, boss, we do.” Kono nodded. 

“Then let's go get him!” Steve grabbed his jacket and led the way out of his office.

* * * 

Danny watched the anger leave Fullerton as quickly as it had appeared, to be replaced once again by the vague and artificially calm manner. He realized he was dealing with a man with a very unstable mind, a person who could very much be on the brink of losing control; the longer this situation continued, the more volatile it could become. For the first time Dan wondered if Steve was concerned about his prolonged absence from the office this morning; yesterday he had wanted nothing but the solitude of his apartment, but today he would have welcomed the concerned hovering of his boss!

“Detective Williams.” Fullerton's voice, once again mild and conversational in tone, brought Danny's attention back to his immediate situation. “You know, it looks like you have a pretty good life here. When my counsellor at the hospital started to talk about what life was like outside in the real world, I tried to imagine yours. And I knew that if I just waited long enough, I could have this great life too!”

Danny tried not to show his growing concern; Fullerton's grasp on reality seemed to be fading by the minute. “If your counsellor was telling you that it's possible to put your life back together, then he was right,” he offered cautiously. “I know a few guys that have done it. Maybe I could get one or two of them to talk to you, give you a hand.”

“Oh, I've already done all that,” Fullerton waved his hand dismissively. “Lots of talking to people at the hospital. And you know what the first thing they said to do was? They said I needed to get a job. And when you get a job, they said, you'll be able to meet all kinds of new and interesting people. So that's what I did, Detective Williams. As soon as I got to Hawaii I looked for a job. A really good job, where I could meet interesting people. But you know what?” The question was clearly rhetorical as Fullerton rushed on. “Most bosses don't want to hire somebody like me. They don't want a guy with a dishonourable discharge. One construction foreman told me I wasn't qualified for the job, even with all my military training and experience!”

Fullerton had resumed his pacing around the living room as he spoke, but he turned back and faced Danny again. “I found a job, all right, but it's nothing like yours! I get to pump gas and wash windshields, all day every day! And where are all the interesting people, you know, like your friend in the marketplace? You meet with him almost every Monday, and he's usually happy to see you! Well, at least, he was...” A plaintive note began to creep into the man's voice. “The only people I get to meet are the customers, and they're usually rude and don't want to talk to me. That's not very fair, is it?”

Bound tightly to the chair and unable to loosen the cords even a bit, Dan could only sit and listen to the verbal barrage coming from Gerald Fullerton. He jumped slightly at the revelation that Fullerton had seen him meet with his snitch, and on more than one occasion; that would indicate that he had been watched for at least a couple of weeks, maybe longer.

“And then there's what you get to wear, Detective Williams,” Fullerton continued his ramblings. “My great new life was _not_ supposed to contain another uniform! Between the army and the hospital I've had enough of those! But the gas station has a uniform...” he trailed off, then jumped up and hurried into the bedroom. Danny could hear him moving things around in the closet. “No, I should have nice clothes like you, suits and shirts that you have other people take care of for you, instead of spending time at a dirty laundromat, like I have to.” Fullerton reappeared at the bedroom door. “Do you think that nice old man that you see on Tuesdays would look after my clothes too?” he asked. “Oh, wait, he won't be helping anybody anymore, will he...?”

A cold trickle of dread began to seep into Danny's consciousness. How would Fullerton have known about those two men's deaths? A terrible suspicion formed in his mind, one that was confirmed by Fullerton's next words.

“Do you know where I live, Williams?” Fullerton was beginning to sound more agitated. “I have a small room in a run-down fleabag hostel! The landlord collects his rent and then drinks it away! The windows are broken, the floors are filthy; even the water in the tap looks dirty! He sure could learn a few things from that nice couple who run this building, don't you think? Although there's only the one of them now, of course, so it might not be so good around here anymore. Too bad about that, Williams,” he concluded, shaking his head in apparent dismay.

Danny was unable to contain his growing horror and revulsion at what he was hearing. “Fullerton!” he shouted, beginning to struggle against the ropes in earnest. “Oh God, what have you done?! _You_ were the one that killed them all!”

“SHUT UP!” Fullerton lunged forward and backhanded Danny across the face. “I'm not finished talking yet! You need to hear the rest, before I ... before... Just shut up and listen!” he finally ordered, going back to walking around the living room, but now at a much more frenetic pace. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, Williams, your interesting life. Even your days off are much more exciting than mine, aren't they? Surfing, hanging around on the beach, talking to pretty girls...”

_“Stop!”_ whispered Danny, still desperately trying to free himself. “I don't want to hear this. I _can't_ hear this!”

* * * 

Steve and Duke had broken down the door and burst into Gerald Fullerton's room even before Chin and Kono had finished the explanation of why they needed in to the manager of the seedy hostel. After determining the room was empty, they holstered their weapons and began a quick but detailed search of Fullerton's meagre effects. 

Kono was the first to find something. “Boss, under the bed,” he said, sliding out a long duffel bag and opening the zipper. Inside, loosely wrapped in a protective sheet, was a Browning sniper rifle, with the scope and magazine still attached. There was also a military style knife, finely honed and oiled, resting in an open plastic case.

“Okay, there's the probable means for three of the five deaths,” Steve observed grimly. He looked over to where Duke and Chin were rifling through a pile of paper on the bedside table. “What've you got, gentlemen?”

Chin held up a small notebook. “There's notes on Danny's weekly routine, what time he shows up for work, regular meetings, even a note about his dry cleaning. No question, Steve, Fullerton was stalking him for a while. Probably knew Danny's schedule better than he did himself!”

Duke handed Steve a rumpled sheet of paper. “Danny's address,” he said simply. “Fullerton knows where he lives...”

Steve looked alarmed. “Did Danno call in to the office this morning? Did any of you speak with him yet today?” he asked, already knowing and dreading the answer. Three negative headshakes had the lead detective hurrying out the door, speaking over his shoulder as he ran down the stairs. “Duke, call for backup, at least two units. Have them meet us at Danno's apartment. Come on, let's move!”

* * * 

“Do you know what I miss the most about my time in the army, Detective Williams?” 

Dan closed his eyes in a futile attempt to shut out the continuing stream of horror from Fullerton. The man was relentless, not stopping his bitter one-sided conversation or his steady pacing around the apartment. Danny's head and cheekbone throbbed in unison, and his arms were beginning to ache from being tied so securely to the chair. But the physical discomfort was nothing in comparison to the mental anguish Fullerton's verbal assault was causing. The guilt and dread from his own, inadvertent role in the week's tragedies threatened to overwhelm him completely, and he struggled to maintain the level presence of mind he knew he would require to get out of this desperate situation.

“I miss the comradeship. The feeling of being surrounded by fellow soldiers, brothers-in-arms. Guys who would always have your back, whatever the situation.” Fullerton was nodding to himself as he spoke. “Like you and your fellow patrolman yesterday morning. I knew as soon as I saw him through the rifle scope, that's what the two of you were.”

“So you shot and killed him, you bastard!” Danny cried in horrified disbelief, unable to remain silent. “Because my friend was standing next to me, you murdered him in cold blood! Why? Why?!”

“I don't have any friends left.” Fullerton continued as if Danny hadn't interrupted. “No brothers-in-arms, not even anybody from the hospital. There's nobody to care what I do, where I live and work, or even whether I live or die. No family. Nobody.” He slowed his steps, finally coming to a complete halt in front of Dan, and fixed an unblinking stare on his captive. “My new life was supposed to be better than this. You told me so eight years ago! Where's my good job and nice place to live? Where's my friends? I have nothing now. Nothing...” 

Dan caught the suddenly morose tone from the delusional man, and that, along with his change in physical demeanour, began to alarm the detective even more than before. Fullerton had appeared to reach a kind of crisis, a personal tipping point. Danny sensed the danger had reached a new height; a moment later his instincts were proven correct when Gerald Fullerton slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small handgun.

“Fullerton. Put the gun down and let's talk some more, okay?” Danny tried to project a calm he didn't feel. “I know there are people that can help you with all your concerns. Let me get them here for you.”

“No, Detective, I think we're past that, don't you?” Fullerton responded quietly. “I'm never going to have what you have. And nobody, not even you, is going to be able to help me with that. There really is only one solution to all my problems, isn't there? Just one more person to die...”

Danny drew in a sharp breath. “No, Fullerton, this is not the solution! There is always another answer, Gerald! Please, we can help you! Gerald! NO!” 

As Danny tugged helplessly at his bound arms, Fullerton gave a small sigh and raised the gun. “Goodbye, Detective Williams.”

* * * 

Steve McGarrett emerged from the elevator into the corridor, followed closely by Chin Ho, Kono and Duke. Further backup was being provided by HPD, who had two units outside the building and a third pair of patrolmen in another elevator on the way to Danny Williams' floor. Motioning his men forward, Steve prepared to knock on Dan's door.

The loud report of the gunshot took everyone by surprise. Flattening themselves against the walls of the corridor, the men exchanged startled, anxious glances. Steve hammered on the door. “Five-O! Open up!” he shouted. Barely waiting for a response, he swung around and kicked the door in sharply, weapon at the ready. Entering the apartment, Steve recoiled in horror at the sight that greeted him.

“Oh my God! Danno!”


	8. Repercussions

Steve took a final long look at the sleeping figure in the bed before he stepped out of his spare bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar and following Dr. Bergman out onto the lanai.

“He's asleep, at last.” The doctor sighed deeply. “I had to give him a mild sedative, and even that took a while to work. He should be out for a few hours, at least.”

“How's he really doing, Doc?” Steve asked.

“Steve, he's in shock. Completely and totally shut down and withdrawn. He's also exhausted and slightly dehydrated, but that's nothing that can't be fixed by lots of rest and some nourishment when he wakes up.” Bergman paused, and regarded Steve with a serious look. “Danny shouldn't be alone when he does wake up, and for a while after that, too. He's had a terrible shock, and will be needing some support whether he wants it or not.”

“Danno won't be alone, even for a minute,” Steve said resolutely. “If I'm not here, then either Chin or Kono will be with him. We have some loose ends to tie up regarding Fullerton, but it's nothing we can't work out in shifts.”

“You can count me into that schedule as well, Steve,” Max Bergman looked uncomfortable as the conversation drifted into personal terms. “Danny's a good kid. I'd like to make sure he's okay for the next couple of days, if that's all right with you,” he concluded gruffly.

“Sure, Doc.” Steve looked both touched and surprised by the other man's offer of help. “Anything to help Danno.”

“I'll be on my way now,” Bergman said. “I've got a 'customer' back at the lab waiting for my attention. But I'll be back later this evening, to check in on you and our boy.”

Steve walked the coroner to the front door. “Thanks, Doc,” he said, pausing slightly to shake the doctor's hand. “I don't think I tell you often enough how much we appreciate all your assistance.”

“You don't!” was Bergman's laconic reply as he left the apartment and headed down the corridor towards the elevator. “See you later, McGarrett.”

O o O o O

For the second time that day Danny awakened with an aching, fuzzy head and confusion about how much time had passed. He realized he was lying down, covered with a light blanket; at least this time, he mused wryly, he was more comfortable. Sitting up slowly in the bed and blinking away the slight dizziness, Dan glanced around the dimly lit room and tried to figure out where he was. He reached out to the bedside table and snapped on a small lamp, and immediately recognized his surroundings: the spare bedroom at Steve McGarrett's apartment. For a moment he wondered how and why he had come to be there. Then the memories rolled back into his mind with the force of a big wave: relentless, remorseless, taking his breath away with their intensity, leaving him weak and shaky in their aftermath.

The low murmur of voices coming from the next room intruded into Danny's consciousness, but even as he tried to hear what they were saying, the conversation broke off and footsteps approached the bedroom door. A tall figure stood in the open doorway for a moment, then stepped inside, reaching out a hand to the trembling young man sitting on the bed. 

“Danno.” 

O o O o O

Forty minutes later Danny was comfortably ensconced in a chair on the lanai, a tall glass of fruit juice in his hand. Steve and Dr. Bergman were also there, settled into chairs and relaxing in the quiet calm of the darkness. Despite the late hour, the evening air remained balmy, with only a hint of a breeze whispering around the men. Danny sipped his drink, aware that he was being watched. Steve had hardly left his side since he had awoken, discreetly but insistently helping him from the bed to the shower, and later out to the lanai. Doc Bergman had been observing him with a coolly clinical eye, pressing the large glass of juice into his hand with a muttered “drink up; doctor's orders” in a tone that brooked no argument. Although the obvious concern of his friends gave him a small measure of comfort, the horror of the day was still foremost in his thoughts.

“Danno.” Steve's voice broke the silence. Ignoring Bergman's warning glare, the Five-O chief pressed on. “This is the last thing I want to do to you, Danno, but we need to get your statement, as soon as possible. Do you feel up to talking about it tonight?”

Danny gave an inward sigh. Part of his mind wanted to retreat, to go back to the drugged grey numbness of a few hours ago. But the police officer in him recognized that it was important to make his statement now, while the memories were fresh. Taking another long sip of his juice, he straightened his back and looked steadily at his boss. “I'm okay, Steve,” he said quietly. “I know we need to do this tonight.”

“All right then, Danno,” Steve arose from his chair. “Let me get my tape recorder set up, so you only have to do this once.” He disappeared into the apartment, coming back out to the lanai a moment later holding a small recorder and microphone. Setting it down on the table, he pressed the 'record' button; he then surreptitiously slid his chair closer to Danny before sitting down again. “Whenever you're ready...”

Dan's face went blank for a moment, as he tried to compose his jumbled thoughts into some kind of order. When he did start to speak, his voice was flat, devoid of expression as he began to recount the events of the day. “I got up early this morning and decided to go for a swim to clear my mind,” Danny said. “God, was that only this morning? It feels like last week...” He shook his head in disbelief, swallowing a mouthful of his drink to ease the sudden tightness in his throat.

“What time was that?” Steve asked.

“About six o'clock, I think,” Danny replied. “The sun was just up, things were quiet on the beach. After my swim I ended up going for a ... well, a long walk after I saw a newspaper. I'd guess it was mid morning before I got back home.

“When I got back to my apartment Fullerton was already inside,” Danny continued, oblivious to Steve's thoughts. “He surprised me, knocked me out and tied me to the chair. When I woke up he was wandering around the apartment, looking through my things and telling me a bit about his ... stay ... at the mental hospital, and about his counselling. It was then that his hold on reality, what there was of it, anyway, began to slip.” Dan paused to reflect for a moment. “He began to compare his new life here in Honolulu with mine, pointing out all the aspects in which he felt his didn't measure up. I think he was jealous...” He trailed off, finding it increasingly difficult to continue.

Other than a tightening of his jaw and a quick glance exchanged with Bergman, Steve showed no other outward reaction to Danny's narrative. He realized this had to be incredibly difficult for the young detective to do, and felt a swell of pride at the way he was rising to the task.

“He was stalking me, Steve! For weeks!” Danny suddenly burst out. He was breathing more heavily now, beads of sweat beginning to show on his forehead. “He knew where and when I met my informants, my laundry schedule, even where I liked to surf! And when he decided to start...” Dan faltered slightly, then pressed on. “To start _killing_ people; I led him right to them! Innocent people who did nothing wrong except they knew _me!_ ” Danny was clearly agitated now, almost shouting the words. “He admitted he killed them all; even gave me the reasons why! My snitch, because the people he met were boring! The dry cleaner, because he hated the laundromat! My building manager, because my apartment is well maintained and he lived in a dump downtown! Kathy, because she was a pretty girl who talked and laughed with me! And Mark,” Dan's voice broke as he fought for control. “The bastard killed Mark because he was my friend, a 'brother-in-arms', something he no longer had!” He stopped, gasping for breath, his hands trembling badly. “All because of me...”

“No, Danno, not because of you!” Steve said firmly, moving forward quickly to rescue the juice glass from Danny's shaking hands. He knelt in front of the younger man, grasping his arms and forcing him to make eye contact. “Fullerton was sick, really sick! _He_ killed those people, not you! You're a victim in this, just as much as they were.”

Danny was already shaking his head. “Not quite as much,” he said bitterly. “I'm still alive.”

Steve was silent, unable to counter Danny's logic. “And then Fullerton...” he finally prompted.

“And then Fullerton said that he had nothing left, that there was one more person who had to die,” Danny said, his voice barely audible. “He pointed the gun at me, said good-bye, then turned it back on himself and pulled the trigger.” He choked back a sob. “I don't remember what happened after that, I'm sorry...” He slumped back in his chair, tears on his face, completely spent.

Steve reached out and snapped off the tape recorder. “Easy, Danno,” he said softly. “We're finished here. It's over.”

Danny glanced up at him briefly, then looked away, the blankness beginning to return to his eyes. “Over,” he repeated dully. “Yes, I think it is...”

Max Bergman stood quickly and moved over to Danny's side, motioning for Steve to join him as he did so. “Come along, young man, you're completely exhausted. Let's get you back into bed.” Together the two men helped Dan up and out of his chair, and slowly guided him into the bedroom. As they eased him down onto the bed, the doctor caught Steve'e eye and pointed to his black medical bag by the door. When Steve brought the bag over, Bergman reached in and withdrew a small bottle of pills. “Here, Danny,” he said, slipping a capsule into the young detective's mouth and following it with some water before he had a chance to protest. “A long sleep is what you need, and this will help you tonight.”

Steve drew the blanket over the already-dozing form of his friend, allowing his hand to linger and give the trembling shoulder a light squeeze. Danny's breath still hitched in an occasional shuddering sob, but the tension in his features was beginning to ease as the sedative took effect.

After another few moments of watching Danny very closely, Bergman nodded at Steve and pointed to the door, indicating it was all right for them to leave.

Once out of the bedroom, however, the coroner abruptly spun around and jabbed a finger towards Steve's chest. “Was it really necessary to do that tonight?” he growled. “You can see how badly Danny was affected by having to re-live it all, especially so soon! That was a stronger dose I gave him just now, to ensure that he would sleep through the night!”

Steve looked troubled, yet he felt compelled to defend his actions to the angry doctor. “Come on, Doc,” he said, a bit impatiently. “You've been around police work long enough to know that I needed to get a statement as soon as possible! And Danno's a good cop; he knew it too!” Steve found that he was pacing around the room, and forced himself to slow down, coming to a stop beside Max Bergman. “Besides, Doc, you know, probably better than me, that talking about it was exactly what Danno needed to do! It's the first step in dealing with it!”

Bergman sighed. “I know, Steve,” he admitted quietly. “In the long run, it's probably better that he _did_ talk about it tonight, and with you. But he's got a rough few days ahead, that's for sure.”

“We'll be here for him,” Steve stated, looking over at the bedroom door. “And now, Doc, you should head home, before your wife begins to think you've forgotten where you live!”

Acknowledging the comment with a fleeting smile, Dr. Bergman retrieved his jacket and black bag, and gave Steve a quick handshake on the way out. “Good night, Steve. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Doc. Thank you again.” The apartment door snapped shut, leaving Steve alone in the silence with his troubled, sleeping friend.


	9. Departures

The morning dawned clear and bright, as if it knew that it had to be perfect. For it to have been anything other than a picture-postcard Hawaiian day would have been an abomination, an offence against all the members of the law enforcement community that would be gathered on the streets on this Monday morning. And gathered they would be, en masse, to say goodbye to one of their own.

O o O o O

Steve McGarrett stood on his lanai at the Iolani Palace, shortly before the funeral for Patrolman Mark Kahama was to begin. His position as head of Five-O dictated that he would be with the Governor and the Chief of the Honolulu Police Department for the duration of the service and official reception. Normally this protocol requirement was something he accepted without complaint; yet this morning he felt he would rather be amongst the crowds, participating with his own detectives instead of the VIPs.

Steve's team was suffering, badly shaken by the events of the past week. They had really pulled together on the weekend, first to discover the identity of the mysterious killer, and then to rescue Danny from his clutches, although ultimately they had been too late to prevent the tragedy of Gerald Fullerton's suicide. Then, each of them had spent time with their distraught comrade, providing a steadying presence as he struggled to come to terms with the horrors of what had occurred. The Five-O detectives, with one exception, were to be together for the funeral and subsequent service at the cemetery. The one missing member, Dan Williams, had his own role to play in the service, as one of the eight pallbearers.

Privately Steve wondered if it had been a wise move for Dan to accept the position. His second-in-command had been quiet and withdrawn after the shooting, except for a short time on Saturday evening while he was giving his official statement. Danny had spent a good part of the day on Sunday sequestered in his bedroom, finally emerging mid-afternoon looking pale and tired. He had made a couple of brief, quiet phone calls and then requested that he be allowed to return to his apartment to pick up some personal items. 

Steve had reluctantly agreed, insisting upon accompanying the young man himself and staying with him the entire time as he had quickly and silently packed a small bag and grabbed his black suit from the closet. Then, following what must have been a shattering trip back to the scene of the previous day's tragedy, Danny had retired again to the privacy of Steve's guest room. Chin and Kono had both brought food for the evening meal, which Dan had barely touched, despite the presence of several of his favourites. He had then informed them that he had been asked to be a pallbearer; after ensuring that a ride to the church would be provided in the morning, Danny had slipped back into the bedroom where, Steve was certain, he had spent a largely sleepless night. 

Topping off Steve's concern was the fact that he had not managed to see Danny this morning; the young detective's bedroom door had remained firmly closed despite his gentle knocking. Steve had finally departed for the office, admitting Dr. Bergman to his apartment as he himself was leaving. It was only a subsequent phone call from the coroner to reassure him Dan was up and able to attend the funeral that allowed Steve to continue with his own obligations with a somewhat clearer conscience.

The Five-O chief glanced at his watch, his jaw tightening as he noted it was time to meet the Governor. Squaring his shoulders, he strode out of his office and down the stairs, heading in the direction of the State Executive Offices. The Governor and his guard were there, as well as the Police Chief, the Honolulu Fire Chief, and several other chiefs of police from local forces on the other Islands. In the aftermath of a tragedy all the emergency service providers were united in their support of a fallen comrade. Ensuring his professional mask was in place, Steve joined the group as they departed for the funeral.

O o O o O

Dan Williams stared at his reflection in the mirror; tired, distant eyes stared back from a face he hardly recognized. The stress of the last few days was clearly visible in the deep dark circles and newly-acquired lines of strain around his eyes and mouth. He knew many of his fellow police officers would have the same appearance today. It was unfortunate, he mused bleakly, that facial features could not be pressed and polished like dress uniforms.

A firm knock sounded at the bedroom door. Having earlier avoided Steve's gentle attempt to make contact, Danny knew he could not ignore the summons this time. To his surprise, however, it was not Steve but Dr. Bergman who stood in the hallway when he swung the door open. 

“Doc!” Danny stepped back, startled. “What are you doing here? Where's Steve?”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bergman responded gently. “Steve had to go in early to meet with the Governor and the other dignitaries before the funeral. He asked me to come by and make sure you got delivered to the funeral home in time for the start of the procession.”

“Oh.” Danny hesitated, eyeing the doctor with suspicion. “Are you sure you're not here to 'offer' me another one of your cocktails? Because my answer is thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine.”

Bergman looked mildly affronted, even as he returned Danny's stare with an assessing look of his own. “No, Danny, I was merely going to offer you a glass of juice and maybe some toast, since you are going to need some nourishment other than coffee to get you through this morning!” His gaze softened as he added, “I'll get it for you now, if you're almost ready. I know we have to leave in a few minutes.”

Danny looked away, the distant expression returning to his eyes. “Sure, Doc, I'll be out in a moment.” He snapped the door shut as he turned back into the bedroom. The doctor frowned at the abrupt dismissal, then headed to the kitchen to prepare a quick breakfast for Danny. While waiting for the detective to appear, he picked up the phone and made a quick call to Steve in his office at the Palace.

A short time later, Danny emerged from the bedroom; dressed in his black suit with a white shirt and dark tie, he looked professional and composed. Only the hollow, weary eyes and the tightness around his mouth hinted at his true state of mind. But for the moment, the mask was in place, and a somewhat relieved Bergman handed Danny his juice and a plate of toast. Together they sat out on the lanai for a few moments of quiet calm before they had to leave.

O o O o O

The solemn spectacle of a full-honours police funeral filled the streets of the city of Honolulu. Columns of police officers, resplendent in full dress uniform, marched slowly in time as a pipe band played. The funeral hearse, surrounded by HPD blue-and-whites and motorcycles, led the procession, with the pallbearers walking immediately behind. The route between the funeral home and the church was lined with silent, sombre members of the public, some holding flags as a show of respect for the departed patrolman.

Steve McGarrett stood outside the church, along with the Governor and other dignitaries, watching as the procession slowly moved along the road toward them. He had been to many such funerals before, during his career in the Navy and in his capacity as head of Five-O. He had seen friends and co-workers buried with full honours; the dignity of the ceremony and public display of support never failed to move him. This time, however, he was less aware of the spectacle and more concerned with a certain individual and the effect that this, the final event of a terrible week, would undoubtedly have on him. As the hearse drew closer, he saw the eight pallbearers marching behind it, and behind them, the long columns of police officers, almost as far as the eye could see. Jaw set, hands clenching in an uncharacteristic display of tension, Steve moved forward with the Governor and the Police Chief to escort the Kahama family into the church. Slipping into the pew with the rest of the visiting Chiefs and other guests, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stood at attention to honour his fallen comrade.

Duke Lukela marched in the procession, grouped together with a number of other sergeants from HPD and some of the other Islands' police forces. As the parade had formed up, there had been little in the way of idle conversation between the men. Each had participated in ceremonies like this before; most, unfortunately, had had the experience of losing someone close to them on the force, either a partner or a man under their command. Many had known Mark Kahama personally, as he had been a veteran member of the patrol squad. Together in the bright Hawaiian sun, Duke and his companions marched to honour their fallen comrade.

Kono Kalakaua sat in a pew near the back of the church. The building was filled with police officers, from HPD and several other forces from the Islands, and even the mainland. He had been to several funerals in his career, but thus far had been fortunate enough not to have lost anyone too close to him. His own days on patrol allowed him to appreciate how close partners could become, and he recognized how intense anyone's grief could be at the death of even a former partner. Hearing a sudden hush settle over the gathering, Kono and all those present in the church rose as one, to honour their fallen comrade as the casket was reverently carried up the aisle.

Chin Ho Kelly sat in the pew beside his fellow Five-O detective. The low murmur of voices from the crowd gathered in the church provided a background against which his thoughts raced, although his face maintained its usual impassive expression. Turning his head slightly, he watched as the Kahama family entered the church, escorted by the Governor, the HPD Chief, and Steve McGarrett. The pale but outwardly composed widow, with an arm around each of her two young children, kept her eyes focussed straight ahead as she walked slowly up the aisle to the reserved pew at the front of the church. In his mind he imagined what it would be like for his own wife and children if they were to find themselves in this situation, and he sent up a small prayer of thanks that his wife had not been the recipient of that phone call that every police officer's spouse dreaded. As the rest of the congregation in the church rose, Chin Ho stood as well, to honour both his fallen comrade and his grieving family.

Danny Williams was oblivious to the beautiful Hawaiian morning, the crowds lining the route, and even the sound of the pipe band as it led the solemn procession through the streets of the city. He was numb, inside and out; it was only his ingrained drill instruction from his early days in police training that kept him walking in step with his fellow pallbearers. Although he had been to several police funerals during his years in HPD and Five-O, he had never before participated formally in one. It was a bitter irony, he thought, that his first opportunity to be so honoured would be at the funeral of an officer whose death he himself felt largely responsible for. The church loomed large in front of them; the procession came to a halt. The eight pallbearers, six HPD patrolmen in full dress uniform, Dan and Mark Kahama's brother David, stepped forward as the hearse's rear door was opened. To a man, all had grim, set expressions as they prepared to execute their solemn duty: bearing their fallen comrade into the church.

O o O o O

The funeral service itself was fairly short: a solemn, dignified public farewell for a dedicated patrolman who died in the line of duty. Afterwards, the large police guard which had taken part in the procession was dismissed, while the family, pallbearers and dignitaries proceeded to the cemetery for the committal service. Here, for the last time, the pallbearers hoisted the casket to their shoulders to carry it to the graveside. And here, everyone said their final farewells to Mark Kahama.

A formal reception followed the committal; in a small, elegant room that was part of the State Executive Office complex, the Governor and the Chief of Police received as their guests the Kahama family, visiting dignitaries, and other civic officials. As head of Five-O, Steve's place was at the Governor's side, and while he inwardly chafed at being unable to check on Danny, his outward mask was firmly in place, and he greeted the other attendees smoothly and professionally.

Danny remained on the periphery of the crowd at the reception. He was aware of Steve's attempts to catch his eye, but he made no effort to respond, or even to talk to anyone else at the gathering, including his fellow Five-O detectives who were also briefly there. As soon as a respectable amount of time had passed, he approached Malina Kahama, and after expressing his regrets one final time, he made his excuses and disappeared out the door. 

O o O o O

“He's gone, Steve.” Chin Ho's quiet words greeted Steve McGarrett as he burst into the Five-O office complex, finally released from his duties with the Governor. “He cleared off his desk, gave me his files. And he left an envelope on your desk; asked me to make sure you got it.”

Steve barely acknowledged Chin as he headed straight to his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Once inside, however, his pace slowed, and his shoulders slumped visibly as he looked at the white envelope in the middle of his desk. Not only did that paper contain his second-in-command's resignation from Five-O, it also represented his own failure to control the circumstances which had led to this conclusion. And Steve did not take failure of any kind well.

Crossing the office and sitting down slowly at his desk, Steve reluctantly picked up the envelope. Opening it, he flinched as Danny's shield and identification slid out and landed on the desk with a quiet thud. There was also a single sheet of paper inside; Steve recognized Danny's distinctive scrawl. Unfolding the note, he began to read. _I hereby resign my position in Five-O, effective immediately. Dan Williams, Detective._ Steve closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a long, slow breath. Looking at the sheet again, he saw further writing. _Steve – there are too many men like Fullerton out there, in my past and in my future. I can't be the cause of death for any more innocent people. I have to leave. I hope you can understand. - D._

Steve let the paper fall from his hand, as a wave of grief and regret washed over him. In a single week, one psychotic, murderous man had inflicted a tremendous amount of damage, including reducing his talented young second-in-command to a dispirited, guilt-ridden man who was walking away from everything and everyone associated with his life as a police officer. The Danny Williams he knew was gone, from his team, probably even from the islands, and the odds did not look good that he would return.

O o O o O

In another part of the city, Dan Williams walked across the tarmac towards the waiting airplane. Dressed casually in a muted aloha shirt and slacks, and carrying only one small bag, the sandy-haired young man did not look back as he climbed the steps and entered the cabin. He found his seat, stowed his bag, and once he was seated and buckled in, closed his eyes to the world around him and kept them shut. Not even when the plane took off into the sunny afternoon sky, providing a spectacular view of Honolulu, did he open them to take one last look at the city that had been his home for most of his life.   
It was time to leave, to go to a place where nobody would get killed simply for being near him.

O o O o O

Present Day

_Crunch. Swish. Crunch. Swish._

The motion of the shovel was a constant, steady rhythm. _Crunch._ The blade of the shovel sliced into the snow. _Swish._ The snow flew from the shovel to land on the growing pile at the side of the driveway. There was no pause or hesitation in the movement, just the relentless _crunch swish_ of the progress of the shovel. Simple; mindless. Numbing. Just the way Danny Williams wanted it.

As he worked down the length of the driveway Danny breathed deeply in the bright, crisp air. Two weeks of living in the cold climate was hardly enough time to acclimatize, but already he was growing accustomed to putting on layers of clothing before going outside, and to seeing puffs of steam every time he blew out his breath. Even still, it was proving impossible for him to shake off instincts and habits which had become ingrained after years as a police officer. Because of this, he became aware that someone was approaching along the road, long before the squeak of footsteps in the snow was audible over the sound of the shovel in the driveway. And as the figure came closer, Danny was even more certain of the man's identity even before a word was spoken.

“Hello, Steve.” The younger man slowed, but did not completely stop the motion of the shovel.

“Danno,” the familiar voice acknowledged.

“How did you find me?”

“Well now, I wouldn't be much of an investigator if I couldn't find one man, now, would I,” Steve responded wryly. “I knew I had to start with your Aunt Clara. She directed me here when I arrived this morning.”

“Hmm,” was Danny's only comeback. Finally turning around to face his former boss, Dan had to suppress a smile as he got his first look at Steve. The Five-O chief, keeping true to his preference of wearing bright, often loud colours in his off-duty wardrobe, was decked out in an outrageous orange and blue hat, scarf and mitts. In a deep blue wool pea coat and a heavy pair of snow boots, with the scarf wound tightly around his neck as protection against the cold, this image of Steve McGarrett was one that Danny would be unlikely to forget for a long time. Setting his shovel down at last, he stretched out his right hand to meet Steve's in a long, firm handshake. “So what brings you here to snowy New York state, Steve?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Well, Danno, you do.” Steve chose not to stall or avoid the conversation. “I came to see how you are doing, and to ask you when you are coming back to Hawaii.” He watched Danny carefully to gauge his reaction to the question. He also took advantage of the moment to have a really good look at his younger friend. With his cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion of shovelling, his eyes clear and his posture appearing relaxed, Danny looked a great deal better than he had on that last terrible day in Honolulu; his haunted expression and crushing feelings of guilt seemed to have been set aside, or at least reduced to a more manageable context.

Danny took a moment to think about his answer. He had been expecting Steve to track him to his aunt's house in New York, and was mildly surprised that it had taken him this long. But then again, he thought, his own abrupt departure must have created extra work for the remaining members of Five-O, so perhaps Steve had had difficulty getting away. But that was not his concern any more... Giving himself a quick mental shake, Dan turned his attention back to Steve's questions.

“I'm doing okay, Steve,” he finally responded. “It was a bit rough when I first got here, but I'm getting better every day, I think.” He gave the Five-O chief a small half-smile. “You can tell Doc I'm eating and sleeping without any extra help.”

Steve gave a rueful grin in return. Dr. Bergman had in fact asked him to find out how Danny was coping; how well his second-in-command knew them all to tease about their predictability!

“As for your second question,” Dan continued. “I have no plans to return to Hawaii.” He noted Steve's stricken expression before it was quickly masked. “This guest house,” he swept his arm in a wave indicating the large home behind him. “It belongs to some good friends of Aunt Clara. They've gone away for a couple of months while it's closed for the winter, and I've agreed to be their house-sitter and custodian for that time. After that, I'll move back in with Aunt Clara, at least for a while. Besides, I resigned from my position in Five-O. There's nothing for me to return to.”

Steve struggled with his response for a long moment. He didn't want to push Danny away further, yet he had to make it clear how much he wanted him to return. Finally, with a small sigh, he said, “Five-O isn't the same without you, Danno. Your abilities, and your _spirit,_ are greatly missed, by all of us.” He paused for another brief time, finally adding, “If there's ever anything I can do for you, will you please let me know?”

A mischievous look flashed over Danny's face. “Well, Steve,” he said, motioning to the remaining snow on the ground. “I could always use a hand clearing the rest of this snow!”

Steve looked stunned for a second, then with a broad smile on his face he strode up to the open garage, grabbed a shovel, and joined his friend in the middle of the driveway; as he pushed the snow around, what he lacked in technique he made up for in enthusiasm. The _crunch, swish_ filled the air, as the two men worked together in comfortable, companionable silence.

O o O o O

Steve McGarrett sat at the big desk in his office, staring blankly at the open folder in front of him. A gentle breeze washed in through the open lanai doors; the warm air was welcomed by the Five-O chief, who was still feeling moments of chill even two days after returning from snowy New York State to the familiar heat of Hawaii. He picked up an item from his desk, Dan Williams' ID and shield, and studied it intently, turning it over and over in his hands. It had been good to see his friend looking so relaxed and comfortable; it was obvious that a couple of weeks and a complete change of scenery had enabled the healing process to begin. But now it was decision time, and Steve knew he had to do what was in the best interest of Five-O, despite what his own personal feelings might be.

Standing abruptly, Steve picked up the folder containing Danny's letter of resignation and an official departmental form containing his own signature; exiting the office, he stopped in front of Jenny Sherman's desk and handed her the file. “Jenny, this is some paperwork that needs to be expedited as soon as possible.” 

“Sure thing, boss, I'll get to it right away,” Jenny replied brightly.

“Thanks, love.” Steve found he was unable to say anything more. Wheeling back around, he shut the door behind him with a decisive snap. In the quiet solitude of his office, however, his stoic mask slipped. “It's not the same without you, Danno,” he whispered. “Please come home soon, my friend.”


	10. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this final chapter, a thank-you nod to MM, who sent things in a slightly different direction with some very insightful observations. And I am always grateful for the unofficial beta ("epic, Mum!") assistance provided by my daughter K.

_New York_  
The nightmare began as it always did, with a slow parade of familiar images from his life in Hawaii: his big black sedan, Jenny sitting at her desk in the Five-O office, the beautiful facade of the Iolani Palace gleaming in the sun, even a perfect fifteen foot curl waiting for him on the North Shore. But then came the echoing crack of a rifle shot; the discordant wail of sirens followed, and the images shifted from pleasantly benign to disturbingly terrifying. A uniformed man's last painful breaths, a girl's lifeless body tumbling gently in the surf, a kindly old gentleman holding a suit jacket, blood streaming from the gaping wound across his throat... Dan's head tossed back and forth, his hands clenching and unclenching, until finally with a hoarse shout of “No!” he awoke, shaking violently and gasping for breath. Sitting up, trying to extricate himself from the hopelessly tangled bedclothes, he fought briefly for control, and lost. The distraught young man dropped his head into his trembling hands, deep wrenching sobs bursting from his throat despite his efforts to stifle them. Gradually his breathing calmed, his hands stilled; but he sat for the rest of the night, staring into the darkness, unwilling to return to sleep and the demons that lay in wait there for him.

Outside the bedroom door, Clara Williams stood listening, her hand across her mouth to muffle her own sobs. Her nephew was in such pain, despite his reassurances to her that he was doing better. The nightmares continued to plague him, and she had noticed his appetite had trailed off again over the last couple of weeks. Clara straightened her shoulders, and her expression grew more determined. As she listened to Danny's sobs grow fainter, she decided that in the morning she would take matters into her own hands; she would contact an old friend who was a psychiatrist and counsellor, and try to get her beloved nephew on the road to recovery.

***

_Hawaii_  
Steve McGarrett gently replaced the telephone handset into its cradle, giving a quiet, drawn-out sigh as he did so. In an uncharacteristic display of despair, he closed his eyes and let his head drop into his hands. Clara Williams, who had been regularly and discreetly keeping him filled in on Danny's state of mind, had just called with a disturbing update about her nephew. It seemed his second-in-command (Steve refused to acknowledge the word 'former') was still having difficulty dealing with the aftermath of the attacks by Fullerton, to the point that Clara had made arrangements for him to see a psychiatrist. Steve's heart and soul ached with the pain and suffering his friend was going through. He wanted to be there with Danny, but Clara had insisted, and he had reluctantly agreed, that her nephew needed to work through this with no outside pressure from anyone connected with his life in Hawaii.

Pushing himself up and away from his desk, Steve walked over to the open door to the lanai, and stepped out into the fragrant night air. It was dark, he noticed with a start; the evening had obviously gotten away from him, as he stayed at his desk to complete the heavy burden of paperwork that fell upon him alone in the absence of his second-in-command. With another quiet sigh he decided to call it a night, acknowledging to himself that the work would still be there waiting for him in the morning. Re-entering his office and closing the lanai door, he stacked the files neatly on his desk and grabbed his suit jacket from its hangar.

The outer office was, as he expected at this late hour, completely deserted. Standing in his office doorway, Steve took a moment to survey the quiet room. Jenny's desk was neatly organized, with a little decorative vase of flowers to brighten what was a male-dominated environment. The two far cubicles, belonging to Chin Ho and Kono, were shrouded in shadows, but Steve knew that both desks would be stacked with files; with a small smile he noted to himself that Chin's would be much tidier than Kono's! His two detectives had shouldered a lot of extra work in the weeks since Danny had left, but never once had they complained about the longer hours or the weekend time off that no longer seemed to happen for any of them. Since Danny had left...

Steve looked at the workspace closest to his own door. Danno's office. Not even aware that he had moved, the Five-O chief suddenly found himself inside the cubicle. He pulled out the chair and sat down, irrationally feeling closer to his friend as he did so. “Be well, Danno,” he whispered. “And come home soon. It's not the same without you here.”

***

_Six Months Later_  
Chin Ho Kelly and Kono Kalakaua met outside the Palace, arriving for work at the same time on a typical late spring morning in the city. Hurrying up the steps to avoid the last few sprinkles of an early morning sunshower, they exchanged a rueful glance as they tried to shake the drops off their suit jackets. 

Kono was suddenly and vividly reminded of a morning, several months ago, when he and Danny had arrived under similar circumstances. Abruptly downcast, Kono followed Chin up the interior staircase towards the Five-O office complex. The big detective's change in mood did not go unnoticed by his companion; Chin turned and clapped a gentle hand on Kono's shoulder. “I know, bruddah, it doesn't seem to get much easier,” he said quietly. “But we got to make the best of it, keep it all together for Steve.”

Kono nodded. “Don't I know,” he said. “The boss is still not the same, since...” He trailed off, unwilling to mention their absent friend's name. As they entered the office area, he added, “Wonder if this will be the week he does it...”

“No way,” Chin responded. “Not going to happen.” Both men stopped and looked at the cubicle next to Steve McGarrett's door. The desk and filing cabinet stood, untouched since the day Danny had last been in the office. The bulletin board with its notices and 'wanted' photos, and the big map of the Islands, all remained in exactly the same manner. Even Dan's favourite coffee mug, long since washed from its last use, waited patiently on the corner of the desk in its usual spot. Steve was fiercely protective of this space; even the steady stream of senior HPD detectives passing through on temporary assignment to Five-O were not allowed to use the cubicle. It stayed unaffected by time, ready for the team's second-in-command to return and settle in for a day of work.

“Good morning Jenny,” Chin greeted the Five-O secretary. He nodded his head at Steve's closed door. “The boss in yet?” he asked, knowing the answer even before it came. These days, Steve was _always_ in the office early, ahead of everyone else.

“Yes, he is,” Jenny replied. “Of course!” She suddenly held up her hand, motioning for silence. “But he's got someone in there with him. I can hear them talking... I don't know who it is; the door has been closed since I got here.” 

Chin looked at Kono and shrugged. “Well, if the boss wants us, he knows where we'll be,” he said. “Might as well get started for the day.”

The Hawaiian detective looked at the closed door and then back at Jenny and Chin. “You're right, bruddah,” he sighed. “Better not get caught staring at his door instead of working.” He turned and was just about to enter his cubicle when the inner office door suddenly opened and Steve McGarrett stuck his head out.

“Kono, Chin,” he called. “Could you come in here for a few moments, please? There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

The two detectives exchanged a sidelong glance as they moved toward the door. Steve had sounded almost... cheerful; suspicious and curious at the same time, Chin entered the office, followed by Kono, who shut the door behind them. The men, however, were immediately at a loss; looking around in confusion, they saw nobody else in the room with Steve.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for being prompt.” The Five-O chief had stepped back and now stood behind his desk. “I've called you in here because I'd like you to meet our new detective and second-in-command. He's starting next week, but he's in this morning to get a feel for things. I'm sure you both will give him all the support he needs to get settled in.”

“Of course, Steve, you know we will,” Chin replied with a quick, startled glance at Kono.

“Sure, boss, of course,” echoed Kono, looking equally bewildered.

“Good, good,” Steve said as he motioned towards the lanai doors. A figure became visible in the doorway. “Then may I present... Detective Dan Williams, second-in-command of Five-O, effective next Monday morning.”

“DANNY!” Kono shouted, bursting forward as the sandy-haired young man stepped into the office from the lanai. The big detective grabbed his friend in a bear hug, almost lifting him off his feet. “It's great to see you, bruddah! You really back?”

Chin was only slightly more dignified as he too moved to greet his friend. “Danny, it's good to see you again!” He reached out and clasped the young man's hand with his own, saying, “We've really missed you! But I always knew you'd be back!”

“Kono, Chin,” Danny said, smiling warmly as he greeted his friends, returning the hug and handshake. “It's good to be back! I really missed you guys a lot as well.”

Steve stood back and let the reunion take place. His own moment of joy had come the previous evening, when out of the blue Danny Williams had shown up at his apartment door, carrying bags of Chinese takeaway and wearing a hopeful smile on his face. After the shock had worn off, the two men had ended up sitting down to the meal, as they had done so many times before, finishing off on the lanai with a cup of tea in the gentle evening air. And when Danny had cautiously introduced the idea of a return to Five-O, everything in Steve McGarrett's world had tilted for a moment, then settled back into its proper place; his friend was finally home.

Half an hour later found the four detectives still in Steve's office, sitting comfortably and enjoying coffee served by an exuberant Jenny. When Steve had called her in to break the news, she had shrieked in delight and just about smothered Danny in a hug. Wiping away her tears of happiness, she had promised fresh coffee and treats within a few minutes. She could be heard, moments later, practically singing as she answered the phone and carried on with the administrative business of the office.

“So, Danny, when did you get back to the Islands?” Chin finally asked curiously. 

“Two days ago,” came the reply. “I hooked up with a couple of old surfing buddies for a place to stay, then I knocked on Steve's door last night. Sure gave him a shock!”

“It's true.” Steve shrugged, but there was a smile on his face that had been there since the moment he had surprised his detectives. “I had no idea Danno was coming back this week. Or any week, for that matter! But here we are...”

“I don't mean to be nosy, Danny,” Kono shifted in his seat. “But didn't you quit? Letter of resignation and all that? Lots of red tape to get back in the system, bruddah!”

“Yes, I did resign. Or at least I thought I did,” Danny replied. He shot a glance at Steve, but the Five-O chief was still wearing his smile, although it deepened a bit at Dan's words. “It seems that Steve performed a bit of administrative trickery, and had me placed on long-term leave instead,” he continued. “So it appears I do have a job to come back to after all!”

Chin and Kono chuckled at the thought of their boss, the highest ranking police officer in the state of Hawaii, creating false paperwork! “Well, as long as it worked, it doesn't matter what he did!” Chin said as he shook his head in mock dismay; Kono nodded in agreement. “It will be good to have you back, for sure!”

“Thanks,” Danny was smiling now too. “I see my office looks all ready and waiting for me to start work again. That was a surprise!” He watched curiously as Steve flushed slightly, a guilty look crossing his face. “And speaking of surprises... Steve mentioned last night that you were all involved in packing up all my things from my apartment, and putting them into storage. I ... I don't know what to say, guys. Thanks, for everything.”

“No problem, bruddah!” Kono grinned, waving a hand dismissively. “I got your Mustang, too, in my back yard! Just let us know when you find a new place, me and some buddies will help you move in, no problem.”

Danny just nodded his thanks, suddenly a bit overwhelmed and reluctant to trust his voice. Noting this, Steve rose abruptly to his feet and made a show of looking at his watch. “Speaking of moving, gentlemen, I think we'd better get this day under way...”

The two detectives quickly stood as well, picking up their mugs and heading for the door. Kono grabbed Danny's shoulders in another brief hug; Chin gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Both men exited the office, their footsteps much lighter than on the way in. Their friend was finally home! 

In the sudden quiet after the detectives' departure, both Steve and Danny found themselves breathing a small sigh of relief. Steve sat back down at his desk, motioning for the younger man to do the same. Taking a moment to study his second-in-command, he felt the last bit of tension fade from his mind, knowing with certainty that Danny was ready to be back at Five-O. He seemed comfortable and relaxed, perched in his usual spot on the corner of the big desk. Steve could clearly see that aside from being a bit too pale (a natural result of spending almost six months on the mainland), Dan was healthy and at ease with himself; the haunted, hollow look in his eyes that had been so devastating to see was no longer there.

“So, Danno, I think that meeting went quite well, don't you?” Steve tried, without success, to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Kono seemed especially glad to see you. Any broken ribs?”

Danny laughed. “They sure were surprised, weren't they?! The look on Chin's face almost matched your expression when you opened your door last night!” Last night... Danny allowed his thoughts to drift back to the previous evening. After he had shocked Steve into a near catatonic state with his arrival at the apartment door, he had found his time spent there to be very... fulfilling. Conversation had remained light and easygoing, and although Danny had felt that Steve had wanted to push him for further information, the older man had been remarkably restrained. Now, however, in the sanctity and intimacy of this oh-so-familiar office, Danny sensed that it was time to clear the air completely.

“Steve,” Danny began, sliding off the desk and settling into one of the tall white chairs. “I don't even know how to start to thank you for everything you've done for me. Six months ago, when this all started... and now, coming back to discover I still have a job and all my belongings are safe. Even my car was taken care of!” He stopped, unable to carry on for a moment, but held up his hand to keep Steve from interrupting. “It's more than I ever dreamed of finding when I got off the plane a few days ago. Far more.” Dan looked up, meeting and holding Steve's gaze with his own. “Mahalo, my friend. I owe you my life. Not for the first time, but the most important, I think.”

Suddenly it was Steve's turn to feel overwhelmed by a wash of emotion. When he finally felt able to speak, he said simply, “A good friend was in trouble. I did what I could to help, we all did. And we would do it again in a heartbeat, my friend. In a heartbeat.” He continued to hold Danny's gaze, until a sudden burst of noise from the outer office took the edge off the charged atmosphere of the room. Both men jumped, then relaxed, looking slightly sheepish.

“Danno.” Steve's quiet, level voice broke the comfortable silence in the room a few moments later. “What was it that made you come back?”

Danny didn't look surprised at the question; he had in fact been expecting it. Rising from his chair, he walked over to the lanai door and back out into the clear morning air, trying to organize his thoughts before answering. Steve followed, standing next to him at the railing, waiting, giving his friend all the time and space he needed.

“When I left Honolulu six months ago,” Danny finally began slowly. “I really didn't think I would ever return. All I could think about was getting away...” He shook his head. “I was in a very dark place, Steve, like nothing I'd felt before. I know I put up a brave front for you when you came to New York, but it wasn't real. Nothing felt real, except the guilt.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I'm not sure if that makes much sense.”

“It does, Danno,” Steve assured him. 

“Aunt Clara finally dragged my sorry butt to see a counsellor friend of hers,” Danny continued. He turned and gave Steve a small smile. “But then, you already knew that, didn't you, Steve?!”

The Five-O chief looked uncomfortable for a moment, a flush rising slowly in his cheeks. “Yes, I did know,” he admitted. “How did you find out?”

“Well, I wouldn't be much of an investigator if I couldn't eavesdrop on my own aunt talking on the phone, now, would I?” Danny threw Steve's own words from several months ago back at him, albeit with a slightly mischievous grin. “And when I confronted Aunt Clara about it, she confessed that she had been talking to you on a regular basis. Don't worry,” he added hastily. “I'm okay with it now, although at the time I think I told her that I wanted to be left alone to go nuts in peace!”

“It was my idea, Danno.” Steve tried to defend Clara's actions, even as his heart was aching for the extra torment he had inadvertently put his friend through. “I asked Clara to keep me updated, especially after she told me about the counsellor.”

“Don't worry about it,” Danny repeated. “It turned out it was the best thing she could have done for me! Dr. Taylor helped me work out a lot of the negative stuff I had going on. It took a while, but I did get ... better. Not over it, but definitely on the mend. For real, this time.”

Steve absorbed Dan's story in silence, his recognition of his second-in-command's determination and strength of character growing steadily. “For real, indeed, Danno!” He echoed the words. “But you still haven't completely answered the question.”

“Oh yes, 'What was it that brought me back?' ” Danny quoted the question. “These beautiful Islands, my friends; you especially, Steve,” he said candidly. “But it was actually my resignation letter that led to my return.” At Steve's puzzled look, he tried to clarify his statement. “Do you remember what I wrote, about there always being too many men like Fullerton out there in my future... and how I couldn't be the cause of any more deaths? Well, those words have been with me constantly for the last six months. At first, it was guilt talking. But then, over the last few weeks, I've come to see them in a different way.” Danny was animated now, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I'm a cop, Steve, a damn good cop. And as a member of Five-O I can do a _lot_ to keep men like Fullerton from destroying anyone else's life! With a lot of help from my friends, of course,” he added, more quietly but with the same intensity. “I _need_ to be here, Steve. _That's_ what brought me back, to stay.”

It was fully two minutes before Steve was able to speak, and when he did, it was in a voice nearly bursting with pride. “Then let me complete your official welcome back to Five-O, Detective Williams. Follow me, please.” Steve walked back into his office, with Danny close behind. Unlocking and opening one of the drawers of his desk, the Five-O chief withdrew two items and placed them on the desktop in front of his second-in-command.

“My shield and gun.” Danny whispered, reaching out to receive them from Steve.

“I'll see you Monday morning, Danno. Bright and early.”

***

_Monday_  
The week began just as any other: a sunny Monday morning, tourists on the beach and in the markets, and routine police business happening everywhere. Traffic tickets were issued, petty crime was investigated, and snitches were pressed for information on anything from thefts to the drug trade. And Detective Danny Williams, second-in-command of Five-O, was a part of it all once again.

**PAU**


End file.
